


Along came a word - A writing meme collection

by Feather_Dancer



Series: Odds and ends [2]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Adventures in Camelot, Alternate Universe, Author is prone to meta binges, Author keeps trying to write music for some reason, Baby Bular, Canon drug reference, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Grieving, Love for an adopted Gumm-Gumm General character, M/M, Otto lives through a drabble challenge, Particularly in the nightmare prompts, Young Love, zouxie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 66
Words: 53,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26970400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feather_Dancer/pseuds/Feather_Dancer
Summary: On occasion I get super self indulgent and do Tumblr writing memes which are prompts of a single or handful of words that turn into "drabbles" that are never meant to go very far and litter my account making it very difficult to refind them so here they all are collected in one place. These are completely unrelated to the prompts for A Collection of Daises which are still being worked on along with my other writing projects.Tags will be added as applicable whereas characters/ships are mentioned on each chapter.
Relationships: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Draal/Nomura (Tales of Arcadia), Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan/Zoe
Series: Odds and ends [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106603
Comments: 78
Kudos: 47





	1. Theatre - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first set of prompts involve a word then me just running off with it and doing whatever. Please enjoy!

They have been called many a thing over the centuries and nothing creates quite the same sense of drama and mystique quite like the word _theatre_ alone does. It can represent the building it is hosted in, the story unfurling upon the stage or the writers who produced the piece in the first place. A land of lies where an actor plays a character much like a changeling would, adopting and adapting their roles accordingly in the quest to create the perfect performance.

It is one of the reasons she mastered the art of breaking in, to watch these without the harassment for being a “lone woman” or for her meagre pay to be taken by the gatekeepers from repeated visits to any that struck her as a favourite. Not everything was a Peer Gynt of course, some stories were so drab it was tempting to throw some poor sap onto the stage and demand they do better if the boos and flying fruit weren’t enough incentive. It was always worth pursuing for those gems be their magnificence come from the costuming, their musical exploits or more.

It was not that Nomura didn’t enjoy reading, far from it! There was just something rather special in this particular _art_ of storytelling she found herself fond of, a way to idly daydream in one of exceptionally few places where she could nothing more than another face in the crowd of humans here to watch the show and not have to constantly watch her back for trouble from either side of the fence. You could even call it a nice little fantasy to simply be lost in.


	2. Freedom - Otto Scaarbach

Some might have whispered that it was luck to find Lord Gunmar on the highway that night, lost on the surface for the first time in centuries where everything had changed beyond all recognition already down a warrior and lumbered with a blinded conundrum. They would be fools, her Ladyship graced the Order with the knowledge of his coming and it was simply a matter of tracking down the Warlord and entourage. She was known to be vague at times, a little hunting was not unexpected and gave him time for preparations to be made for his future arrival. Everything must be absolutely perfect and not a hair out of place.

Oh what a strange feeling this is being the very changeling to escort the Skullcrusher to the Order! Now with his freedom is now at hand the Order’s greatest work may finally commence and he shall succeed where _dearest_ Stricklander so utterly failed!


	3. Masquerade - Douxie Casperan

It feels like being part of a living masquerade some days, blending in with the crowds of ordinary folk who have no idea who you are whilst knowing that in this day and age if they got wind of anything they’d turn on you in a heartbeat calling for your burning as a witch. Poor Archie has been relegated to either avian or canine form to keep a lower profile while cats are seen as suspect for the crime of existing, _particularly_ the darker variety. The current paranoia cannot possibly be over soon enough…

But! There is still work to be done even in these old towns that rot while they accuse one another the moment anybody sneezes in their direction blaming all their ill fortune on that supposed “sign from God” and each feeling much the same as the last. These places will see him as little more than a hunter with a faithful hound moving between place to place in search of their quarry. It is true in a sense though it is not the hide of bear or the meat of a boar that they have been pursing these past few weeks which melts between his fingers with frustrating ease.

No, Hisirdoux Casperan has his eyes firmly set on far bigger prey than those humble beasts: **a demon**.


	4. Pale • Melody - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh man this one. I remember when writing it it occurred to me Within Temptation did a song called Pale, combined the two prompts and ran with it :) Canon seconds before mind control.

Otto’s eyes are open but everything is like watching the world through frosted glass, a haze that refuses to allow the picking out of details giving everything a dream-like quality despite knowing that he is very awake. He tries to move his hands, bundle them into fists but they remain at his side completely unmoved by the internal snarls of frustration. Why does he feel like some form of caged beast within his own head? There is nothing here, everything is empty yet beyond where he cannot reach is filled with bones.

Within a solitary beat voice echoes from everywhere and nowhere at once in his skull and instantly as though by instinct he recognises it as the Skullcrusher’s timbre. He tries to look around and fails.

“ **It is time for your final mission, Impure.** ”

Without any warning and heedless of the panicked scrabbling scratches at the bars, his body begins to move all on its own accord whilst slowly changing shape without his permission of the original host.

He begins to scream with realisation.


	5. Sin - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking prompts in a different way is fun.

If there was one thing that always felt like a pure indulgence no matter how many centuries came and went it would be food as silly as it sounds. You spend the early part of your life on scraps or what you manage to harvest from the wilds that when you suddenly having access consistently and within fear it becomes a novelty that never really leaves you, he’s heard of stray animals getting a similar mindset. You know it won’t disappear but something primal at the back of your mind keeps whispering but _what if_? Even with saying that there were things that were generally frown upon to eat unless specifics were met and not in the “don’t have too much of x” that happens in the modern day though Douxie will not lie and say he hasn’t rather enjoyed the sugar boom. Twizzlers are the **_best_**.

Back when he was a kid, even after being taken under the care of Merlin, meat was the shiny object he rarely managed to get his hands on aside from the tiny leftovers he squirreled for Archie from the kitchens. Hunting was considered a luxury for _only_ the higher classes and their prizes seldom shared as ordered by the voices of the sects and those of politics who preferred scarcity as that made it a reward to be savoured if you ever got it at all. It seemed silly then and it still does now to keep a mere pheasant for a feast only fit for those of heritage or status.

Casually munching away on a beef-laden taco while holding a second steady for Archie in the humbling year of 2020, it feels like a special up yours to past ideas who claimed that such things would tempt the common man to sin and debauchery.


	6. Wings - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now this one is just silly.

“Their advertisement claims that this… Red Bull gives you wings,” Otto says with the earnestness unbecoming of a changeling of his status when it comes to such frivolities.

“I thought it was most curious, don’t you?”

Stricklander eyes the can that has been set between them, the distinctive red graphic watching him from around the curve. Letting out a sigh he leans back into his chair and steeples his fingers together.

“Last time I checked caffeine did an awful lot of things to the body but suspension of disbelief was not one of them, I somehow doubt it would make your flying abilities any less poor than they already are.”

The Grand Commandant appears scandalised, snatching the drink away and popping the ring in one easy movement earning a quirked brow.

“Ach such faith! I feel this is worth a test of science, don’t you? Let us find the truth in the matter good and proper.”

Needless to say, at least the resulting crash landing was excellent future mocking material.


	7. Magic - Douxie Casperan

_Magic is the mastery over life so first you must learn how to **live**_

It was such a strange comment to make at the time, Douxie had thought, was he already living by being in front of his Master and talking to him right then and there questioning why he was doing mere chores instead of earning a staff much like his own? It was painfully naive if understandable why, he was too young really did not know how to yet and wouldn’t for a while. Funny, almost.

He came into his stride more and more as the pair travelled between mindless wandering and just having an idea in mind they decided to pursue to see what would happen at the end of it. Through these he found new enchantments, glamours and spells while meeting all sorts of people and creatures that he never could have while still within the old walls of Camelot. He learned of history, of the stories born on tongues that never touched a page, witnessed rites and on occasion given the honour of participating for helping out with their problems. History might not remember these moments but they certainly would.

There were slip ups here and over time as it became harder and harder to exist as a pair of magical outcasts in a world their former King might have approved of with how things were driven underground even if the little pockets clinging onto the fringes would have infuriated. Thus he became skilled in the art of helping in secret with an easy smile and listening ear plus knowing when it was better to just up and bail until it was as second nature as breathing.

Many centuries later he too would obtain mastery over magic, enough to earn his very own staff though not in the circumstances, nor time, he could have ever expected as a teenager. As can be the way of many things of course, unpredictable and surprising in both good and bad ways.

_Magic is emotion_

And right now… It is all he can do holding onto this special gift from a late mentor to stop the grief becoming all consuming.


	8. Dreams / Nightmares with Morgana - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This particular set of writing prompts were Dreams / Nightmares with various characters that I have marked in the chapter title. On the occasions I was given both, I've included them in the same chapter with a split. Enjoy!

**A happy dream:**

Any dreams where Lady Morgana was are involved were always strangely nostalgic, like his mind is trying to cling to past images of the person he’d once known that never would have raised a hand to Merlin with killing in mind. Never… would have betrayed the crown. But then, once upon a time, even he wouldn’t have dared defy his wishes either.

Whenever Douxie felt he had a spare five minutes from chores he would often squirrel himself away into the Great Library of the castle where he could attempt to study before he’d be summoned again for more work and the idea seemed to follow him. There were words with no meaning he could not read yet somehow understood in this strange state, soaking in the potentials of magic and lore far beyond what Master Merlin was teaching him yet. The _real_ thing didn’t have any of these of course as Arthur would never allow it to be so but logic tends to escape things when you sleep and the stories remain the same.

Sometimes _she_ would be there seeking her own peace from the politics of society that treat even the great Le Fey as a lesser rather than an equal to her own brother by the virtue of the seat he held. It was a rare time where they could be equals, in a sense anyway. Her fingers are pressed together on the edge of the desk opposite somewhat wistful whilst looking over the multitude of reading material he has surrounded himself with - Mordax this time. He is about to say something when she reaches out and taps him once, then twice on the forehead. His expression remains trapped between wanting to brush her off and keeping his mouth shut and is gifted a gentle smile in return.

“You do realise, little lamb, that you will easily dream the entire day away if you’re not careful.”

~

**A nightmare:**

You made a mistake

This shouldn’t be happening yet

All the knights are watching

Their gasps are as deafening as the blow

Arthur falls at his sister’s hand

Somebody screamed

Swords are raised

Merlin lashes out in anger

She turned on him too soon

**T H E - T I M E L I N E - I S - L O S T**


	9. Dreams / Nightmares with Walter Strickler - Nomura

**A happy dream:**

There was no Order, no Gunmar, no threats, only life.

A life without having to fight. How strange, illogical even.

Laying down the swords, embrace freedom and let others pull the strings for a change.

“This is what you wanted wasn’t it? A fantastic little lie where we’d all sing kumbaya or some shit with the humans.”

He gives her a polite little shrug while holding the wineglass to his lips. She shoots him a glare from her own sun lounger and makes a grab for the bottle between them. They look like a ridiculous pair of tourists with him even more so in that stupid sunhat he insisted on wearing, vest, shorts and a towel leisurely draped over the remained of his legs. She in contrast opted more sensibly in her coverings to not look like she was scared of the flash of ankle and with a parasol to boot.

“The singing can be dropped I don’t mind that so much but isn’t it nice not having something breathing down your neck for a change?”

She snorts and clinks their glasses together when he offers then downs half of her own in one go.

“You’re still here, I can’t really know **yet** can I?”

~

**A nightmare:**

“You failed for the last time, Nomura. Clever trickery will not save you now.”

He shouldn’t be here, she knows this. The Darklands spat him out long enough ago that the dating system since has changed thrice over and yet here is Stricklander lording over her prison lecturing her like some common rat with arms folded behind his back.

“We lost the **son** and you weren’t there to help him. It’s no wonder Lord Gunmar is so displeased, supposedly one of our strongest fighters and yet you skipped out and let yourself be pulled into here instead. Tragic does not even cover it.”

She shoots him a glare from her huddle in the corner. You didn’t do shit yourself you godamn spectre, you failed HIM. Yet everytime she tries to snap back the words come out as little more than a hoarse croak leaving her stuck with bared teeth only.

“Oh how the mighty doth fall! The rising star plummeting so far she fell through the earth into the wastes instead. Tell me, my dear,” he asks plain and sweet but she knows that look, the one that speaks of death knells.

“The coward’s way out _is_ still an option before you’re dragged away. Will you take it?”

She spits at his feet.


	10. Dreams / Nightmares with Merlin - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for death, understandably.

**A happy dream:**

_Merlin_ had said he was pleased with his progress, pleased! It was moments like this he clung onto for when things started to get too press his skull too tightly or when struggling to find anything for his fingers to fidget with in Archie’s absence. **Be** somebody more than a stray waif on the streets and instead somebody a master wizard could wear a ghost of a smile as though not wanting to let the praise go to his head.

It absolutely did of course but he earned it!

Politics somehow seems so far away when somebody who has a genuine interest in his studies without judging his struggles with the malice or disdain the knights give when they think he’s not looking. The chores sucked and wore him to the bone often enough they’ve started to become muscle memory but for somebody to look at him like that? It always made it worthwhile, it made him feel like his tiny little circle of two might get to grow almost a bit like a family he never got to have even if one could be grumpy and not grasp the concept of fun. His music would win him round yet rest assured.

Douxie wants so badly to **be** whatever made Master Merlin decide to help spare his life in the market that day and each one of these feels a little bit closer to achieving that. One step at a time.

They are the reason he sleeps with a smile upon his face and the terrors are at their lowest for what feels like a lifetime safely within the walls of Camelot castle.

~

**A nightmare:**

The entire sequence is lodged in his mind repeating every time he closes his eyes even for a moment. The widened flash of eyes, the strangled gasp as the sword plunged into his chest and the shock of a split second never thought possible to **be** contrasting the squelch of meat tossed away through a window like a mere off catch. There is never any blood in any of the repeats, for a monster every kill is surprisingly clean as though a cut is too… _human_ … for one such as he now.

The screaming echoes so loudly.

The heartbeat is shallow, slowing then deafening in absence as he falls. Somehow he finds himself there, always, to take in those last words and for a split second feel like he meant something. This glimmer of greatness he supposedly has, had?

Then ashes to ashes, a life returns to the soil that birthed it leaving behind nothing but a staff and his falling tears.

He’s gone, the greatest wizard to ever live. Gone.

_I’m not ready_

He’s struggling to breathe, it chokes in his lungs.

**Reset**

The entire sequence is lodged in his mind…


	11. Dreams with Draal - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Implied Draal and Nomura.

**A happy dream:**

Blue.

Everything is blue.

A song without the lyrics.

Something that should **be** yet is missing.

Not here though here is different.

The blue has many shades that glint in the easy light.

Unique and special.

There’s no more secrets and no more lies.

The blue knows.

No judgement.

Safe.

They doze peacefully.

The touch of stone against stone.

Carvings beneath fingertips.

The breath is real.

Here.

**They live.**


	12. Nightmares with Skrael - Douxie Casperan

**A Nightmare:**

As much as it can be denied, there are a few things in life that can cause his worst fears to panic and spiral unbidden. Armed guards carrying blades in their hands are one of those but as long as he can focus on an action Douxie can keep it at bay if Archie’s paws cannot keep him held in the moment instead. Shouting can too, sometimes if it’s directed at him, too many bad memories of having to run from those who wouldn’t understand or saw not a _child_ but a thief to be stopped. It takes a particularly bad day for those to work when he is too stretched and worn to stop the irrational panic but they do.

The worst one however is the feeling of captured, forced onto the knee and made to look at those only planning to do harm unable to even move his hands, to **do**. Sometimes that action brought the other two things along with it loud with threats and no means of escape. He hates those ones particularly.

This one, _now this one_ is different, where he is held down not by shackle but by the very essence of primordial ice. The bitterest chill seeps from the air, clawing up his spine by each vertebrae making him flinch and grit his teeth to bear the pain. With each beat it reaches higher, slowly encompassing his body by crack and crunch and he shall in turn refuse to grant the cause the luxury of seeing him break. When his chin is lifted by the very tip of blade to force him to look at the being wrapped in skull and black cloth the wizard only glares. His tongue is as frozen as his body despite the scathing comment screaming to be let out for all the good it may have.

Douxie gets a smug little smile in return for his defiance and the ice clamping ever tighter around his limbs until a pained hiss finally passes his lips. This pleases them, the realisation that nobody will come to watch over his death bed is only a matter of time now. He was ever so _fun_ while he lasted but alas all the best things must come to an end sometime…

“ **Poor rabbit**.”


	13. Dreams / Nightmares with Angor Rot - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh man I forgot how brutal the Nightmare was of this one. 
> 
> Warning for death.

**A happy dream:**

Caution is the sensible word to use around the assassin with as much infamy as Angor Rot has. Watch your tongue, provide no threat and do not make your presence in his pointless.

There _is_ certainly something to be said for the troll wearing sunglasses and headscarf over his horns in the shade of daylight content enough to observe things despite being stranded where he is surrounded by a multitude of specific herbs and plants she had brought him on request. It feels both unreal and yet, here it is happening before her and she’s the witness “out of bounds” by the light.

“ **Humans are poor cultivators** ,” he states producing a pestle and mortar and begins to work with the leaves.

“ **Some remember, many more are wasteful**.”

Nomura stares at him oddly. To be perfectly honest she has absolutely no idea what he’s up to and interrupting would be the personification of rudeness even when what appears to be some form of cheese is run along his blade.

“ **They do not know how to make a decent edible salve save their lives.** ”

It is then it finally dawns on her: This is the trollish equivalent to freaking _pesto_.

~

**A Nightmare:**

As a changeling their advantages are many when it comes to abusing the terrain. The sun cannot stop them like a troll letting them melt into the human populace at will carrying the strength and some of the nature with every step they go. After sundown they can join their brethren covertly playing in the shadows and taking out the bothersome with nary a fear of true retribution.

Some however know their wiles and their tricks as much as they do and turns these things to their own advantage as a hunter of the night. Where the quarry will run, how a trail will attempt to be thrown or how they may slip away. Sunlight is but a temporary reprieve, you will be found. The ticking of a clock thrums with a heartbeat that raps too fast from running so hard in these woods that have forgotten how to end. Every hoof step feels like a clatter through ceramics and balefully loud, an uproarious signal of “come find me!” even though she wishes on the Lady they’d fucking **stop**.

It’s a risk to squirrel away but it’s important to snatch these chances to reassesses the situation and plan ahead with a breather to boot. Nomura can only hear herself yet the darkness feels to be closing in utterly and it’s becoming a struggle to see between one tree and the next like some form of magic is at work to herd her right where they want. Her eyes widen, it’s time to go.

One step

Two step

_Crack_

“ **There is only one reward for a traitor, the Lady sends her regards**.”

The knife plunges her foolishly unguarded back causing a strangled gasp to leave her lips. Panic sets in immediately when limbs torturously stiffen against her frantic attempts to keep them moving and the rampaging poison at bay. Each harsh breath starts to become harder and harder unt-


	14. Dreams with Nari - Douxie Casperan

**A happy dream:**

Dreams are strangely fickle things that follow both the wakening and the slumbering as easy as one can wrap themselves in a warm blanket on a chilled day. They do not care for possibility or reality persisting unhindered by such _mortal_ restraints. You dream of freedom and respite from the oncoming storm? They will provide in generosity and comfort and be that little space to breathe again.

For a certain wizard by the name of Douxie Casperan, even the illusion of that is _enough_.

Everywhere is green, he realises, rich with plants of all shapes and variants that don’t so much smother the traces of humanity but enrich them. In the strangest way it reminds him of the woods beyond Camelot’s walls, the place he never would have dared step a foot in his youth as though they were the ones who advanced instead of humans carving a place amongst them. Somewhere magic is still allowed to thrive.

His hand trails through vine and leaf feeling textures ranging from waxy to soft to prickly and back again while he walks letting his feet take him wherever he needs to be. He knows well where that likely is but _knowing_ makes the journey no less enjoyable, even these old crumbling walls will end eventually.

She is surrounded by a home grown meadow when he finds her, a fluttering of bees and butterflies of all colours investigating her braids and fingertips alike much to Nari’s sheer delight. Archie is there too, curled near her toes content enough to enjoy the peace and the odd shuffling of the crouched being beside him. It _almost_ feels like intruding on the scene yet he goes over to her anyway and kneels so it won’t feel like he’s towering over her watching as a red admiral picks pride and place on an antler with an expression ever so soft. She’s _told_ him it’s fine but he feels better for not doing if it’s at all possible, her comfort is important particularly on the run.

Unsure whether it’s acceptable to touch an shoulder no matter how ginger, he merely bows his head and whispers what he wants to say instead even if it doesn’t feel like **enough**. It never will.

“Thank you.”

Nari looks at him oddly as though trying to comprehend quite what he means when a smile breaks out. Mindful of her other guests she reaches out and pats his hair with a soft giggle.

Any reply she might have given is lost to the world beyond and only a feeling that on this night none of them will be allowed anything other than a peaceful rest.


	15. What Daylight Left Behind - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following are a set of "Fake fanfic titles" and rather than doing the sensible thing of a summary I just... Ran off with it because of course I did.

For as long as time has begun to flow, the coming of dawn is _meant_ to trade the coolness of night for a younger day, warmth and light just as it has done every morning for as long as he’s ever lived. Yet there is an air of defiance in the system that has led to darkness to remain while consuming the stars from the very sky like a great serpent had been let loose to rampage. It’s as suffocating as it is bewildering to behold, a feeling of witnessing something so utterly eternal without even a hint of the very sun’s existence to be seen. The wizard rubs his arms in a feeble attempt for more warmth whilst letting loose a long drag of dragon’s breath ironically matching that of the cat perched around his shoulders. There is not a soul alive around them for miles, not anymore.

“I had expected Ragnarok to be a bit more dramatic, personally.”


	16. As you are - Walter (Stricklander) Strickler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I managed to read this one as COME as you are and, yeah. Stricklake hinted.

It was such a daft little notion really, these words were said in complete oblivious innocence without even a hint of what they were _truly_ asking of him and yet while standing in front of the floor length mirror any possible nerves are buried under the sheer feeling of humbleness. Is this what it’s like to know you’re trusted by another soul? To knowingly have somebody at your back that is not holding a sharpened knife behind their own?

_To be cared for?_

The changeling tugs at his lapels to ensure they set correctly over his far rougher troll-skin and swats down and rumples where the shirt underneath catches on his carvings. The tailor had done quite the marvellous job of adapting for, ahem, unusual requirements, even making adjustment for wings so that they could still be hidden under an additional cloak without it clashing with the tuxedo purples or risk coming off as tacky. Their tip was more than earned, as were the recommendations he’d been handing out like confetti since. Giving himself one last look over and a shameless twirl in admiration, Strickler throws a candid glance to the clock and lets out a disapproving tut.

“Ah, now I simply cannot be keeping the lady of the hour waiting much longer. It’s time for this old retired assassin to shine.”


	17. Cat with the canary - Douxie Casperan

Archie stares at the box placed in front of him suspiciously unsure if to even give it a nudge with his paw lest it do… _something_. The temptation to bat them off the counter in a fragrant act of cat-like behaviour is remarkably strong given the literal crowd watching his every move.

“And what is it you have decided to grace this household with this time?” The cat asks not daring to take his eyes lift from the strange yellow things with beady eyes. The wizard merely rolls his eyes paying more attention to unpacking that the dilemma unfolding in front of him.

“Zoe gave ‘em to me when I stopped over after getting food, figured you’d enjoy a treat and they’re kinda cute to be honest,” he answers stuffing more ramen than should be legally allowed into a cupboard far out of reach of a humble feline who would otherwise try and hide them on the insistence of a healthier diet.

“Apparently they come in lots of different colours? Got herself some in pink, naturally. Hopefully there’s some goth abominations lurking out there somewhere too.”

“What you humans find cute has always been questionable at best.” The familiar levels him with a look for the ensuing laugher and fur bristles even more indignant for it.

“Bird chicks I suppose you could call them that, these however I must vehemently disagree.”

“Listen if _you_ don’t want them I’ll eat them all myself they don’t have as much good marshmallow stuff over here. I miss flumps they were killer.”

Letting out a snort of disgust and knowing well that is not an idle threat he sits on his haunches to pluck one of these mysterious peeps from their nest. Mentally he dithers for a second or two more trying not to squish the horrid thing between his pads and then ceremoniously bites the head off.

_Mmm, not too bad actually_


	18. And Then There Was One - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final hours of the Janus Order.
> 
> Warning for injury and death.

_He was right_

The realisation hits him almost as hard as the imprints of a single fist embedded in the walls he runs past desperately seeking the safest room the Order has to offer where She had once hosted council for her beloved children, the abandoned sanctuary of a gramophone. Others had tried to go this way, he realises horrified, there are torn corpses not deemed fit to be devoured by their Dark Lord left scattered where bone hasn’t already started to devolve into dust and despite every attempt to tune it out the echoes of screams tainted with finality are everywhere leaving the constricted air to rattle on within his skull.

_He was right_

Syria, Meq, Deeja, Bee, that moron Lys, Kiane - Tens of hundreds of other changelings that he knows by voices, their **names** who came on his invitation to witness his return just as unaware as he that it would be to offer themselves before the reaper and the guilt feels like another stab to the gut. If even a single one manages to escape it will be a miracle, those who yelled for him to flee because they wanted to depart this life fighting as much as they came into it.

Violet blood is splattered on the door.

_He was right_

Frantically pawing at the keypad for entry the polymorph all but wrenches the door open before forcing it closed. There is nothing here that could be used as a barricade and he knows, it is the greatest tomb possible for the faithful and devout. Even if she abandoned them the second their Opradush walked the surface it will not stop him for praying she will grant one final mercy. The Grand Commandant on the Janus Order refuses to indulge the whispers that say it’s a fool’s errand.

Taking out his phone, he taps a number that is reminiscent of times when it was their kind alone that tried to release him, of parties and drink, of playful banter comparing notes and mocking the silliness of human kind and their vices. The one he had once condemned to a reaper of his own making yet looked into the face of death and came out on the other side.

He can still hear the shouts from outside, the clatter of falling bodies. They are louder than the thumps in his chest and breathing that refuses to steady. When the line clicks, he utters words to a former beloved comrade whom he hasn’t spoken to in what feels like a lifetime.

“ _You were right._ ”


	19. Throwing horns - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then the shameless Zouxie happened.

Of all the things that had happened to him in literal centuries, having various Halloween related stuff ceremoniously dumped on his head was surprisingly not on the list until this very moment. Literally spitting feathers (?!) Douxie starts shoving the lot of them off onto his lap to find they also included, funnily enough, a set of blue glittery devil horns. Hmn, he holds them up with a quirked brow, _really?_

“Come _on_ , this is like the one time of year we can dress up and be stupid and you’re not on shift or finding an excuse to cover somebody else!” Zoe says with one hand on hip and the other pointing to his face with nails freshly decorated in deep purples to match her lipstick.

“You’ve skipped out on me three years in a row mister, you’re all out of excuses this time and I want you ready for tomorrow night when I’m dragging your ass out to give this town a show they won’t forget.”

“That’s sure a fancy way of saying drinking,” he teases taking the chance for a proper shufty through the fabrics. Oh that one has a bitta potential…

“Plus this is the States remember? They think I’m underage.”

“Pfft like you’ve never faked an ID before _or_ the fact people think you’re in college all the time Mr. I’ve got legs for days so I get asked about taking up modelling.”

“Hey that was the 90s love, different time. Hasn’t happened again in ages.”

“Doux, it literally happened last month when we were in Starbucks, you were too caffeine deprived to figure out what words meant and I got stuck vouching for you appreciating the offer but too busy to think about it right now,” she answers back scooping up what suspiciously looks like a Lord of the Rings wizard robe run through tie dye and holding it up like a suggestion and a grin.

“Touché,” he answers shaking his head as he is absolutely _not_ wearing that thanks. He won’t own up to not remembering if that really did happen or not, if they ever go to a chain it’s usually because he’s too tired to function beyond ordering a drink and about ready to pass out at the first opportunity.

“Well if you’re so insistent I be a lovely witch’s consort fer a night, how about the lady herself decides, yeah? Within reason because it’s not fair you get _all_ the glamour and I don’t fancy going it looking like I fought a bin bag and lost.”

She fails to hide the faint blush fast enough from the sly grin on his face but it doesn’t stop her snatching the headband from his side and twirling it as a distraction letting the shimmering catch the light just so and taking his attention off her before he can try and say something back. Satisfied, Zoe carefully places them on his head while mussing his hair a little to make sure they sit properly before standing back to admire her handiwork. Perfect.

“Hmm, alright… How about to make it fair I run everything with you first and I help with your makeup _if_ you wear these horns? They’re kinda cute and they do match your hair~”

He can’t see them himself despite trying his best to which is no doubt deliberate but for a smile like that coming his way he’ll happily go with whatever she asks. It’s sappy and he could not care less what any other soul out there thought about it. So he simply throws a trademark salute instead.

“ **Deal**.”


	20. R.B.F. (Resting Brunch Face) - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More shameless Zouxie content? You got it! This one is also a smidge different as it hints to something in one of the oneshots I'm working on...

“Rough day?”

She looks up to find Douxie hovering above her, tea in one hand and an éclair in the other with his brow furrowed in concern, hadn’t even heard him coming let alone asked for anything yet somehow he managed to know anyway. He keeps joking about once a waiter but it’s a little weird seeing it actually happening before her eyes.

“What are you even talking about?” she answers back snapping more than she intends while forcing herself to sit back in the chair instead of burying her head in her arms to give him the space for the plates to be set down with a gentle clink.

“Frankly I’m _peachy_.”

To his credit the wizard simply rolls his eyes patting down the branded apron he’s currently wearing looking more the part than usual when he works in Benoit’s. Must be an inspection or something…

“For one? You’ve got the murder look, you only ever get the murder look when either I’ve done something which I can’t have given I’ve been here all day oooor you’ve had multiple people try and shame the music selection,” he says gesturing with his left hand and the other on hip outright abusing the fact he’s taller than usual right now to loom like a mother hen.

“… And on occasion That Guy at Hex Tech but you’ve not mentioned him in a while. I called in my break so scooch over and blame the fact you chose a booth against a wall.”

She shoots him an annoyed look but does as she’s bid making enough space though not before hoarding the sweet offering he came with. He’s mindful in turn to give her plenty of space so she won’t feel squashed even though it means sticking his leg out from under the table so as not to bang his knee on the metal.

“I’ve not killed anybody before you ask but I _might_ have thought about it.”

“Uh huh.”

It earns him a swat though to her annoyance he simply laughs her off and slides the tea closer knowing it’s better to be patient and let her offer up the answers when she’s good and ready instead of trying to push too hard when this angry at the world. They’ve known each other far too long, literal centuries at this point, that they can be as in tune as breathing when it really needs to count and sometimes it makes her wonder if this is what his own bond with Archie must be like? It certainly _feels_ closer than words can give meaning to. The tea is mint with a hint of a fruit she cannot quite place from the taste of it, the heat helping warm her chest as much as her palms curled around either side of the cup. It’s comforting.

“It’s,” she begins, then pauses ignoring the way his head tilts to one side to show she’s got his full attention she can just make out the corner of her eye.

“The new kid actually. Skittish as _hell_ I don’t know what’s up with him like there’s keeping a low profile and there’s I’ll pop out of existence like Nightcrawler. Literally every time I try and talk to him alone he just ups and bolts you’d think we like bite or something.”

A hum is let out beside her seeming trying to properly weigh up his options from the way his head moves just enough for his hair to shift across his face. Zoe takes the opportunity to grab the éclair so she won’t be caught looking too obviously and as ever grateful he didn’t bother trying to make her use cutlery and instead left a napkin for the future chocolate mess.

“Must be _something_ up, want me to try and grab him for a natter? Mean I’m still an unknown so might be a bit less threatening and can always try the "Look at my cute cat!” angle if I have to. Doubt it’s you personally, could just be nervous of all the ladies you got over there that could kick his ass,“ he says teasing nudging her in the shoulder getting a derisive snort back.

"What’s his name by the way?”

It IS an idea, come to think of it, Douxie carries more of an aura of being harmless and he might be willing to open up more to another guy and help get to the bottom of just what’s up without it coming across as an interrogation not to mention genuinely being able to say he’s separate from the coven. She gives the plate a tab with a nail to make more of a show of debating it before finally answering.

“Calls himself Hank.”


	21. Trolls, fried chicken and walnuts - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitta Stricklake in this one and is the last of the drabbles I have on hand presently. Enjoy!

“You’re adapting to this whole _… trolls were under Arcadia_ thing rather well.”

Douxie has honestly lost count how many people have asked that very question, give or take a few words, ever since the Eternal Night mess happened. His boss at Benoit’s had asked, co-workers too, heck even random people on the street whispered and made gossip between them and were left to simply put it down to his general laid back nature. Truthfully this all managed to work out spectacularly for him in having genuine plausible deniability _and_ the ability to enjoy the fact there was at least one small thing out there he didn’t have to pretend didn’t exist anymore. Been a long few centuries since that last happened, fae were still around if he remembers correctly.

It likely helped too that there were just two changelings, of which one was frequently seen with a human Doctor, and an old General who couldn’t look more harmless if he tried didn’t exactly inspire any ongoing fears. Them plus the blind one who very rarely ventured this far into town unless on the arm of one of the seniors he sometimes spotted playing chess. Their very existence became old news before reconstruction was even completed and the news cycle moved back onto the more mundane happenings of the human world bar a few persistent conspiracy theories still desperately wanting to eye them with suspicion.

Of course the change in the status quo did bring along some rather odd instances too, such as having to make space for an unusually large Krubera wanting to join a couple for dinner for reasons he could not possibly fathom. He was swiftly nudged into being their waiter and escort through the kitchens with everyone else seeming to find an excuse not to which, okay? Thus here we are trying not to send an incredibly amused smile at the changeling who had done a horrified double take the moment he realised whose face it was and had to desperately hide it before any company present notices by taking a quick sip of wine.

_Heh_

“I hope he’s not causing you guys too many problems, I know it’s a little awkward but he was… insistent?” She looks a little embarrassed, looking between himself and AARRRGGHH who has seated himself in the open space they’d by the table looking round curiously while sniffing the air intrigued by all the different scents wafting from the doors he’d just passed through.

“Oh no! You’re _absolutely_ fine if anything it’s an honour having Arcadia’s resident troll in our establishment, and thanks for the heads up by the way it’s taken a bit of doing making a good pathway through.”

“Quite, it seemed only fair,” Stricklander slips another sly glance his way before back to the menu.

“Though it seems you expanded your selection since certainly I was last here. I do however have to question why on earth somebody thought frying chicken with a garnish of walnuts and a side of chips or salad was considered the "fine dining” experience.“

Dr. Lake frowns peering at the menu herself for the culprit while the troll takes a sneaky bite out of one of the plastic plants before sitting up again a picture of innocence. Douxie caught it but he won’t rat him out as it’d be rude to do so to a guest after all so instead he lets out a chuckle to help mask the blatant crunching noises whilst tapping the notepad with his pen.

"Ah _that_ one’s easy to explain, sometimes it’s fun to let the culinary arts students go nuts with the menus and the brave can try it out. Personally? Call it fancier KFC.”


	22. Your senses corrupted, controlling a poisonous will - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpectedly another drabble meme has happened and uh my inbox got kinda swarmed? This one is "Let your shuffle loose on your music and write a drabble based on your favourite lyric of a song it chooses" and as I have it on all the time anyway I figured what the heck.
> 
> Warning for drugging, specifically what happened during the Win, Lose or Draal episode.
> 
>  **Prompt:** [The Devil’s Orchard - Opeth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1pi7Dn87mY)

The tapping on the wood of your table is almost rhythmic with nails ever so perfect that create a false melody as you drink away oblivious to what was dropped in your cup the very second your back was turned. The chatter between you remains light as should be expected between friendly strangers, particularly towards one who was caused such trouble by your son acting out of character. An apology is enough you're told with a kind smile, nothing was damaged and given the police caught the boys it seems senseless to scare them further doesn't it?

For half a second your vision blurs, how strange... The Curator says nothing keeping that pleasant look upon her face instead so maybe you imagined it? The tea tastes no different and she drinks it just the same as you without issue while gently coaxing you to talk more about him, harmless little tidbits like his passion for vespas and love for cooking while you laugh and despair at how his teenage years are going. She reaches out to pat near your hand and says, ah but a phase! I think we all had a rebellious period and this simply must be his. You nod because yes you can't think of it being anything other than true. She mentions that there is an old folktale to never follow the wisps for they always lead you to trouble and absently wonders what their little light was.

An odd comment, perhaps, but you put it down to hearing of different cultures when you work with their art and wares as she does.

The door opens announcing his arrival comes all too soon but Jim's voice feels muted. You can hear them, yes, but they sound more distant than they should be like they’re coming from underwater. The words are weirdly strained, an apology in guise alone and you struggle to parse them because your head starts to hurt when he moves to put himself between you and your guest. You try to ask what’s with him but the words begin to slur and jumble in your mouth upon a tongue of lead.

The last thing you remember is the sound of dismissive tutting before everything turns **black**.


	23. Am I in too deep? Have I lost my mind? - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one hurt to write lemme tell you, Dromura.
> 
>  **Prompt:** [Enrique Iglesias - Hero](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koJlIGDImiU)

For a changeling there is no such thing as a happy ending, it is a story spun from the first moments they kiss the surface and embrace sunlight and have not yet learned to be jaded to the human world above. Sooner or later no matter how picture perfect the life you make may seem the knives will be turned on you and it is those wiser who know to be ready to either fight by tooth and claw have an escape plan beyond the reach of the betrayed. Yet the temptation is there to let your guard down, enjoy those blissful moments before self destruction because it feels like a second happiness you had once been denied when you were snatched from the cradle as whelps. To simply be allowed to _exist_ beyond the politics and backstabbing of your own kind? What a concept, it’s no wonder it’s so tempting to embrace. Some lose their stone, others lose it to hoping for something better.

Nomura had been swept underground under false pretences by using the fabled brute of a son all too eager to help an innocent troll caught out where another son roamed and brought her to the safety of the underground. It was all too easy to play the worried damsel card fearing being found out after being forced to leave home because humans were encroaching too deeply into their lands. He offered her nothing but kindness and an insatiable curiosity about what the world beyond their wards was becoming that was borne of an innocent heart untainted by the disgusting reality. The Trollhunter clearly wanted him to live in ignorance a changeling could never enjoy.

As time passed she learned despite the kindness a warrior still burned strongly under the flesh, one that wished to be ready for battle so that one day he too might fight alongside his father on the battlefield. He fabled an axe as much as his fists, showed her a rolling technique he was working on perfecting to give him more mobility than he otherwise would have to turn a disadvantage into a greater one and it would be a lie to say she wasn’t impressed watching his training. The sheer chivalry when he questioned why she would risk being a sparring partner for him truly adorable which a swift hoof to the gut straight through his guard quickly fixed that assumption.

Draal… That name became carved in her inner stone without her even realising, she was falling faster and faster and did nothing except allow it to happen.

It was not a conventional relationship by human nor troll standards but something fittingly it felt like _theirs_. They would fight blade to blade until arms quaked from strain for hours at a time yet other times he would show her the secret meadows beneath the earth filled with flowers that could only bloom in moonlight. He made a promise that one day soon she could meet Kanjigar, Heartstone Trollmarket’s noble defender, when he was allowed to recuperate for a change because of a fight with the Dark Lord’s spawn and thus off duty for a time. The delighted smile she gave was strained.

When upon one night he took her away from any nebbing eyes he took both hands of hers in a single of his and decided to propose a question he claimed had gnawed away at him for many cycles unable to decide if he could bear the idea of her saying no. She gives reassurances that whatever it may be she’ll answer him truthfully and that he was son of the Courageous was he not? Prove your bravery! Ask away!

_Would you swear that you’ll always be mine?_

He whispered those words so earnestly while his cheeks betrayed him with blush. The changeling leans forward closer to his ear and with a lie wrapped in spider’s silk gives him an answer that would haunt her for years to come.

_For as long as you’ll have me_


	24. As the sun will rise - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Aromantic tries to grasp writing a glacial slow burn involving a wizard who realised he fell for her long before she did but would not say a thing first preferring to suffer in silence than risk their friendship. This is also while trying not to tread on the oneshot I started poking yesterday. Zouxie again too!
> 
>  **Prompt:** [Tale as old as time - Beauty and the Beast](https://youtu.be/uQ0ODCMC6xs)

_When had things started to change?_

It is such an innocent thought to have by all accounts whilst sitting in the scrungy old apartment nursing a cup of still warm tea with the imagery perfectly rounded out by a certain cat shamelessly claiming his socked feet as a pillow while he naps. It is a question too that he cannot for the life of him answer either because the concept of there ever being a _before_ in recent memory had been drowned out by the _after_ like a switch had been flipped and poof! There it was.

They'd known one another for literal centuries and while it would be unfair to say they became friends instantly, it'd be near enough to that if you squashed everything down into a more natural timeframe it could perhaps. In the very early days there would be rare occasions where they both happened to end up in the same place in pursuit of something or another but with both pursing vastly different goals while trying to wade into a brand new world alone it was never for long, not when travel would be arduous and good weather ever so precious. He must have made a decent enough impression during one of these encounters though as despite now knowing he was from Camelot like her and had studied under the _Merlin_ , Zoe made the suggestion of using ravens to keep in touch just as they were about to part ways once more. It'd be tricky at times but the idea of being able to chat to somebody else who **knew** without having to be so wary of eavesdroppers whenever they spoke was too enticing to say no.

And thus they did.

If they were ships in the night before they were only more so as the years turned from 13th, 14th, 15th, ever marching onwards. His unintentional habit of dropping off the radar for long stretches cannot have been easy to deal with but the birds were always there with a message touched by magic just for their eyes to see. The wiser thing would have been to burn them soon after reading but in the need for a thread to the outside world he kept hold of them, memorising the words as best as he could before they were condemned to the flame in batches and tried not to think how much he missed being able to physically talk. Patience was a trait of magic though and knowing it will happen again eventually helped soothe the aches.

They would tell one another of secrets, compare notes on their own discoveries as much as what people around them were up to, create inside jokes that sounded completely nonsensical outside the three of them between the scathing commentary about those dislikeable and even at times reminisce. He found that under this slightly prickly nature what an amazing person she truly was with the wild streak and general attitude to throw a finger in the air at authority if she thought she could get away with it completely unafraid to tell everything like it was. He always did love that about her, despite even he would be on the receiving end of it more than a few times. The fact they are both junkies for a bitta adrenaline likely helped him stay in good favour from some of the more uh _spectacular_ disasters.

It would make sense if this love he feels so deeply had grown from there, the wanting to be with and support this amazing witch he'd the pleasure to know so well but the _when_? It eludes him completely. The wizard said nothing though when he could finally put a word to it, simply clamped the feelings down and was content enough to remain friends because he'd rather have that than even consider not having her in his life.

The 21st century was different though, where Arcadia became a strange landmark to his own life history for reasons more than being able to settle in one place for a while instead of bailing within weeks. There was still Archie of course who is as dear to him as family that he could not bear the thought of being without and now his oldest and dearest friend all in the same place without having to rely on birds but could simply hang out when they felt like it for the most part. The same lady who one day out the blue while watching the sun rise after a particularly rough night wore a little bit of blush on her face whilst nudged him in the shoulder and said in all seriousness, _I need to ask you something important_.

Taking another sip of tea, Douxie smiles wondering if it'd be shameless to drop a text saying _thinking of you_ or not.

"Like a tale as old as time~"


	25. We’ll walk in fields of gold - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was very tense for this one as the stars tend to align in a way that involves either killing or heavily traumatising Otto but by some miracle, shuffle was kind.
> 
>  **Prompt:** [Fields of Gold - Eva Cassidy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UVjjcOUJLE)

“You were named, I must admit I am a little surprised.” His voice is unusually soft for his status carrying a hint of uncertainty for what this could mean in the future for the pair of them. From the scoff it’s likely it has been taken as something seen as rather regretful instead of a genuine thought.

“You have enough on your plate with the Order nipping at your heels, Otto, I thought you would be _happier_ that there would be one less knife circling your throat,” Stricklander says idly moving the wine glass between his fingers. It’s from his personal stash, such an occasion warrants a little bit of human luxury or at least that is what he claimed when the bottle had been opened.

“And if anything it means I will have to work closer with his son than you do now, a further blessing given he is getting more irate by the day. The focus will do him good when he sees we’re being productive and otherwise I’m sure the continued spat with the current Trollhunter will keep him out of our own business.”

“Does any of this look like disappointment to you?” The first snaps back before draining half in one go out of annoyance.

“You’ve have always been the ambitious one since the Order began crawling to the surface but ah, to have his eye in both senses? It is not _my_ neck I should be worrying about, you were just set on a pedestal that stands too easy to be torn down by the spiteful with an executioner on a leash of twine tied to your wrist.”

“Truly I am most humbled by your concern.”

“Are you? Because from here you strike more as trying to patronise instead.”

Silence falls between them within a beat of those words leaving his mouth with neither willing to back down nor catch a glance from the other. He was always the prideful sort and to be given this title, this _role_ , is it any wonder that already he became so prickly to one of few whom would miss his character should it be torn from this life too soon? Perhaps not but it does not make it any less infuriating to bear. It sours what should be sparking joy of such a unique privilege to commandeer the Killahead project as he sees fit with success merely an absolute over a potential to occur.

“… If you will allow me to do so, Stricklander, I promise to you without blood that I shall stall the announcement for a few days,” he states looking the other right in the eyes before raising a finger before the interruption has chance to be.

“Ah! Ah! Before you start to argue, it will allow you time to sweep the rugs so to speak and walk the fields of the unknown masses a few days more, consider it a curtsey to a dear friend of mine now his status has risen.”

From the crinkle in the brow his words are being worked over, testing for anything suspect as any who bargain in the shadows might. Closing his eyes with a nod another sip of wine is taken before an answer is given in turn.

“You do raise a good point, I’ll grant. Alright then perhaps a toast to friendships borne of treachery and dust is due?” The drink is held aloft a moment to sparkle in the sunlight before lowered in an offering of peace and in-human nature revealed as is courtesy.

“Equals that we are in stone and Order.”

It is stared at for the briefest moment then with a glow to match their heritage it is genially clinked with his own.

“From dust we rise and to it we’re sown, we ensure his will at the cost of our own.”


	26. But you don't know what he means to me - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay this one is weird and requires some context. During the Lightbox Expo panel for Wizards last month concept art was shown of a mystery troll shown next to Gunmar with little information otherwise. I later found out that they were a General in the Gumm-Gumm army called Gnasha who was killed at the original battle of Killahead and they had existed in an earlier version of Wizards before being replaced by Bular which both in cost and story wise makes a lot of sense! Because their design is freaking cool however I have shamelessly adopted them so they can live on in a way and you can find one of my doodles of me figuring out how to draw them at the end of this particular drabble. 
> 
> Please note due to my kidnapping I have declared them a non-binary troll who goes by they/them.
> 
>  **Prompt:** [Jolene - Dolly Parton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ixrje2rXLMA)

Preparations were well underway for the battle to put the wretched human King into the earth to seep with his final breaths as the damned being deserved. From the lowest of troll to the smiths and bonemenders, all were doing their part to ensure there would not be a single blunt blade nor armour untended when the march into battle begins comes as the sun begins to wane. Those with a hand free would attempt to salute or stand to order when their passing was witnessed, otherwise continued on with their orders with nary a word nor command needing to be spoken. However there is something amiss in these echoing caverns that bothers like an incessant itch, their fellow General is conspicuously _absent_. Even more unusual is that the Opradush seemed unperturbed by this development despite him being one of their most brutal of combatants choosing instead to focus on testing the strength of a blade gifted by a golden witch to aid in their plight against the oppressors. Only the son was allowed to approach and all wise trolls and the few impures offered to be of assistance did well to stay away from the caverns he dwelt.

Letting out a huff the Gumm-Gumm stalks away hunched over as ever to finish decorating their own armaments with the bones freshly carved from a successful hunt days prior. It is infuriating that a mere _ruz_ will be required to ensure that their paint is ready for war for the blue-ish stone-flesh they cannot reach themselves, if this could be taken as an omen it would be one of ill times ahead.

The fleshbags and their strange beasts, oh how they blanch and shiver in fear upon seeing the mighty Skullcrush approach from the ridge flanked by the Prince and General! The spitting defiance they showed under a banner turns to cowardice when confronted with an army borne of stone and the cries of many victories been and yet to come. They are _weak_ , barely worth the meat buried under the metal carcasses they foolishly wear but the coming slaughter will be glorious and the songs will carry for ages to come of how these creatures cannot hope to force their kind into the shadows forever! The order to feast is given when the light is at it's weakness and their roars echo round the hills as they plunge into the valley seeking to end the folly of man's age be it by parlok, sword or claw. Each as eager to be the first to have a confirmed kill and seek the blessing from Morka.

Their route deliberately criss-crosses with that of the heir to keep a golden eye on the far younger troll by being nearby while allowing him to breathe and truly test his mettle against the swarming ants. Oh! How those sounds of bodies crumpling under the weight of the Black's General ploughing through them on all four limbs utterly delights from the savage grin, others are instead caught by their facial plate adding to the red colouration as they are flung aside while the length of their tail strikes down yet more. The stench of blood begins to fill the air as much as shouted orders in every language driving the frenzy ever onwards towards utter **annihilation** and they cannot help but laugh uproariously. They had not had such fun in years!

A horn being blown snatches their attention away from the struggling human desperate to pry plated fingers away from how tightly, _tighter_ , they clutch it's chest in curiousity. It is... trolls? Ones that are armed little better than farmers attempting to rise in defiance bringing with them a swell of forces led by a troll they cannot recognise. These are all Dwoza's brood they suspect and their prey is dropped in surprise barely breathing under cracked ribs. Aarghaumont? Had _failed_?? Impossible!

"The wretches wish to play at war? Then let them be ground to dust!" Gnasha snaps snatching the attention of dust covered soldiers nearby to begin a fresh charge over the dead and dying to put these pathetic gravel huggers in their place once and for all.

The troll of many eyes carried little more than bristles to defend from the seething goblin masses screaming in terror as he tried to fend the lot of them off shouting a name as though it would mean anything oblivious to what else stalked near them let alone the noise of a beast hurtling right at them with terrifying speed.

_It should have been so easy_

Within a blink the General is struck on their side and sent hurtling across the grass until their sheer bulk and claws slows their momentum enough under a rattle of bones and creaked stone. They spit in annoyance that they had been so ceremoniously caught out while stalking prey, rising up onto hind legs to find the cretin who had the sheer _audacity_ t-

"No hurt!"

Gold whirrs to find their omen had turned real and standing protectively between them and the Dwoza born making their jaw slack in surprise before exploding in bruised anger at the troll who still carries the trappings of _their_ army worn in mockery.

"You of all trolls, of all GENERALS, want to protect these snivelling things who would seek to have us buried by the whims of the flesh?" Gnasha snarls with hackles raised down their shoulders with all the appearance of a true Gumm-Gumm borne of war.

"They hide under the tail of their ancestors instead of embracing their heritage of true warriors or the banner where we roam not serve!"

The krubera keeps his head held high keeping eyes firmly on theirs, in any other circumstances they would be proud of the authority he carries by posture and expression so different from the tiny whelping that once played with the young Prince in the nest. Now? The defiance in green from a traitor makes them bare their teeth in fury for the audacity of turning on his own kind.

"Don't want to fight. Blinky friend. Stand down," he states with unusual calm, a small snort causing his ring to clink on stone.

Planting fists on the ground the great General Gnasha roars back before lunging into a step then into a barreling charge with only the other's death repeating over and over in their mind. There would be no honour shared here, only just reward.

"Then be crushed with them!"

~~~


	27. Each star a memory of a life that's gone by - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smidgey hint Zouxie this time, this one really took the song to heart as I was writing. It can be hard being immortal sometimes, it'd be so easy to lose yourself to a jaded heart if you don't ensure you stay grounded and keep those little reminders that you're not alone in the world.
> 
>  **Prompt:** [My heart’s fit to break - Stereo Alchemy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mp0H2xDa-7s)

It felt like that within a single moment a day which was ordinary enough what with replacing the lost Slorr milk whilst ensuring that Master Merlin had the materials needed to work on his prized amulet, then within a blink the entire kingdom had fallen on it's sword, two of the greatest magic wielders of their age suddenly gone without a trace and he, at a mere 19 years old, was left to pick up the pieces of painfully vague instructions that would make little sense because he lacked the same sight his Master had wielded. Thus Hisirdoux Casperan was left to mourn the dead and lost with his familiar as the only company who could spoke in words whilst tending to a tomb so that the ancient wizard could rest peacefully. Even after completing his final assignment it was only the need for supplies that kept him functioning in a mockery of a living state, the tears of grief had dried years ago but the cracks in his heart never seemed to heal no matter how long it was.

This was until a day finally came that he felt ready to explore the world he'd left behind and finally begin to **live** again.

Centuries on from then the Camelot of old has been transfigured into nothing more than myth and legend as much as it's habitants existing only through name with barely a vein of truth surviving within the stories and like a living relic he watched it fade piece by piece quite unsure what to make of it. That was the thing about living beyond what you should do, it tends to make your perspective a little bit weird because you so much as get your hands stuck in dealing with a demon or six that refuse to grasp the concept of _not being welcome_ and then boom! A whole decade swept past without you even noticing, countries have renamed themselves and a war is kicking off that somehow you're accidently ended up in the middle of through the bad luck of timing. It was alarming the first few times it happened until it became scarily _normal_ to still be standing on ruins of what once had thrived.

He'd learned so many stories though from the people he'd met however, those who sparkled with life and were all to happy to share the amazing things that they were creating. Some would offer a place to spend the night not wanting to leave "such a nice young man" out in the cold or with an empty stomach, more than a few who asked to be called modridge or seanmháthair (The language varied so much it was often a struggle to keep up) who would show a special way of cooking or even give suggestions on how to properly charm a good lady, men who would bid the wizard to hold their secrets and children fascinated by a cat or demanding to hear what lay beyond the borders of their humble villages. While he would never consider giving up the pursuit for various magical artefacts or new spellwork, it was these snapshots who helped keep him grounded in being a simple human who appreciated the company of others who were like him but not. Some of the faces and names of the oldest ones are a little blurrier than he'd like now but he does his best to remember so that in a sense they can live on in a different form of immortality. They were owed that much for helping ease the pain in his chest, even a little bit.

Who knows? Perhaps there are little traces of a humble apprentice littered throughout his travelling history that nobody was ever able to put a name to. Not enough to blow his cover of course! But maybe someone who wasn't completely forgettable... It's a humbling thought.

Douxie is really not sure how he'd have managed without Archie throughout his life though, even the _notion_ of doing all this while being completely alone was too terrifying a thing to consider. Heck, it was something that could haunt in nightmares between images of fire or brandished swords and more than once had made him wake up screaming in terror. Somehow the dragon would always know when he was having a particularly bad time despite any denials that were offered and would curl up on his stomach purring without complaint or more fragrantly would demand his attention for something he could do just as easily do himself because it gave him a focus on something other than whatever was rattling through his head. He is a reassuring constant that felt real to his hands whenever everything beyond that felt more like a sea churning in a storm with no sign of a shore in sight. While he would be told over and over not to and start putting _himself_ first it wouldn't stop the extra tidbits being secretly snaffled his way like little thank yous that words couldn't quite express in the form of food.

They are truly closer than close whilst being incredibly in tune with one another, barely a word needs to be spoken be it on the road or having to fight back against an attacker making the act of an innocent wanderer and animal so much easier preventing any worry he might have otherwise had. As much as Archie may grumble or snark, he's certain that his familiar has never regretted making that pact with him for a second anymore than him making the pair a package deal if anybody truly wanted to try and befriend the other.

Where they had decided to stop on this particular night in the comfort of the warm summer air the view is magnificently peaceful for this time of year accompanying a feeling of being the only two beings for miles around here to appreciate it. The moon glows in full radiant colour decorated by smatterings of jewelled-stars that had escaped from behind wisps of clouds and absently he wonders aloud to his familiar wrapped around his shoulders if this sort of sight would be treated as a good omen to trolls if they venture up to see for themselves. _Quite likely_ , comes the reply earning a gentle scritch.

It's silly, really, but being lucky enough to be here at just the right time makes him think of somebody _else_ he wouldn't half mind being with them too. They of course being one of the few people who also knows what it's like being so out of place with the present, whom he'd received a raven from two days prior saying another stray had been found and rescued from a pyre so will likely be on the down low for a while so stay away from this area until things calm down. Busy as ever but more importantly too him _still around_ which helps ease the ache for a while longer, it gives a soft reminder that perhaps he's overdue being around people again. It'd been a week since they had last seen even another soul on the road and that appears to have been long enough for the first signs of disconnecting to begin to sink in buoyed only by half day or week stops elsewhere along this trail.

"Would you be against settling down for a little while, Arch?" he says quietly keeping his eyes on the rapidly disappearing stars.

"Sorry, think I might be getting a little homesick again."


	28. Presence, elegance, an unmistakable dominance - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I 100% blame the song for how this one completely wandered off it just screamed 20s era Strickler. Uh slightly risque/worse implied at the end there as a forewarning but nothing that bad.
> 
>  **Prompt:** [The Maestro - Caro Emerald](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsBsi2YkYCA)

After freshening up her makeup for what felt suspiciously like the _third_ time that evening for the sake of keeping up expected immaculate appearances by the lady folk attending using one of the many assorted mirrors the estate turned dance hall spun gala the slightly eccentric host had provided, a barely repressed sneer stares right back with a piercing green gaze. The culprit that had caused this particular upset in demur? The latest would be the pair of waifs nearby who had chosen to slip away for a moment with their bags clutched tight but for far less innocent reasons than hers. They are gossiping sordidly and cackling like cats in heat about the man who had caught their pretty little eyes with his presence.

The most disgusting part was Nomura knew for a _fact_ they are talking about Stricklander. Every single person in the damn place had been whispered behind hands or into ears about the mysterious man they were told to address simply as Mr. Áskalos who had been an unknown on the invited list until he had walked into their lives. Dressed in a casual yet formal best and trading expected blacks for lighter creams, a splash of blue in his pocket and chain of a pocket watch he'd been carting about the past decade for that touch of class it was enough to turn heads. The changeling simply glided between the money circles picking up pieces of conversation as naturally as a knife, kissing hands or shaking them while laughing at all the right places to newly spun yarns as though he'd been born into the society of fame and fortune.

Quite frankly at this point she'd had enough of his peacocking and the fawning crowds desperate for a word... or _worse_.

Plastering on the sweetest smile, heels click softly as she strolls onwards unaware of other guests subtlety moving away of the shorter woman wearing a rather beautifully ruffled skirt in silvery pinks to match the swirls of the many body of the dress and ostrich boa loosely wrapped on her shoulders. The group of man obsequious to his words and the need to keep her expression light barely keep her aura from being **murderous**.

"-My boy! Now please tell me you do not try to woo such innocent ladies with a mouth as that?" he says with a mock gasp in stark contrast to the chuckling and warm support the others give him.

"The mother would hear and have you booted from the house before you had chance to apologise."

"That's why you marry the daughter, less scandalised by the idea, my dear sir!" The original speaker cackles causing the rest of the humans to join in like it's the funniest thing in the world ignorant to the half hearted response he joined them with.

The first he would be allowed to know that Nomura had approached at all is when an arm is slipped around his own by the elbow and gently tugged to indicate she would quite like to borrow him for a moment if the gentlemen would entertain her fancy. They look at her then dismissively tut and shoo annoyed that their favourite is being pulled away but out of not wanting to potentially fall out of favour do not voice what they actually want. With a polite thanks from both in gesture and voice, they wander away to a quieter part of the room to make the most of the various seating arrangements. They sit close enough to talk without fear while keeping apart enough as society expects of a lone lady who could be hawking many a bachelor at such a function.

"Are we allowed to stab any of them yet? Slitting a few throats sounds like it would do the population some good," she mutters darkly adjusting the skirt to properly cover the knees and not bunch up enough to start causing a spectacle of leering.

"Sadly not here though I certainly have a few earmarked for a later time," Strickler answers glancing away for modesty until she settles back down with ankles crossed.

"You have remained on your best behaviour however I'm very impressed. I was half expecting you to have struck a wandering hand with cutlery by now."

"Oh _now_ who is being the rude one," she snipes back but from the grin it's meant in jest rather than barb. He holds up his hands innocently anyway just in case.

"Though speaking of uncultured swine, I've heard so many the lewd fantasy about you in this one evening and quite frankly I want to throw up because they're not being particularly subtle about it. Oh oh! To touch the mystery man below the waist and follow the line of that seam and see where it lands! And _that's_ just the ones having the decency to be respectable too, tables are rather popular I hear particularly given the fine selection this place has."

Despite her incredible deadpan delivery it does nothing to prevent the rather strangled squawk nor the blush that erupts across his ears. She says nothing, merely admires her nails before continuing.

"Why _congratulations_ are in order, Mr. Áskalos. It's a good thing you swing any way you please because you got dogs baying of all flavours."


	29. And when melodies are gone in you I hear a song - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was a tricky one to write if I'm honest. This is a track from the singer's final album, somebody whose music I have adored since I first stumbled across it in the early 90s and was absolutely ecstatic when she released "I look to you" (Ironically the song shuffle picked) seemingly out of the blue. Then, just like that, there would be no new music from such an amazing voice ever again and it was heartbreaking finding out exactly how much she'd been suffering.
> 
> I let the drabble do what it wanted including despite not being musically inclined in the slightest it WANTED to be. I spent a good couple of hours getting the lyrics right alone and I hope that at least in the spirit of writing I did it some justice.
> 
> Heavy Zouxie again as seems to be the way. This is also the final drabble prompt I had meaning I've done 15 of the things in 5 days which is kinda insane to be honest? I'd say I need a night off writing but I'll likely be straight back in there because I got fics and oneshots needing attention. I hope you've enjoyed them!
> 
>  **Prompt:** [I look to you - Whitney Houston](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Pze_mdbOK8)

Despite dutifully yelling to announce her arrival to Douxie's apartment after swinging the door wide, Zoe got no immediate response from the wizard who had _said_ he'd be here when she texted earlier to ask if she could stop by and harass him about borrowing a few bits from the shop again. It's not that unusual admittedly, having to just nip out for something or simply getting engrossed with whatever he was doing was pretty normal but given his natural habit of being a charmer always out to put the best foot forward it seemed to embarrass him whenever he got caught out being a bad host. Probably a good thing she didn't kick the door in mind, mighta set the wards off anyway and that'd left two of them freaking out. The _last_ time it happened she was wearing steel caps and it left a sizable dent that they were both left scramble fixing before the landlord found out with even him very nearly breaking his self-censorship habit. Not her finest moment but her hands were full of takeout at the time, needs must!

Shrugging out of the tatty patched-up jacket that had been shamelessly robbed when last here because of a chill swept in way earlier than planned, the door is clicked shut with a suspicious frown whilst listening out for any signs or even where they might be squirreled right now only to be greeted with utter silence. Odd. 

"Greeting committee is being a bit on the lacking side today. Even you too, furball? Will bribe for at least a hello here!" she shouts again from where the clothes are dumped over the back of the sofa before pressing her now bare elbows into it while leaning on the back expectantly. No response again. Huffing with annoyance the witch snaps her fingers together to create a small orb that crackles softly in pink hovering gingerly just above glossy black nails. 

"My boys, your standards are starting to slip big time."

It is a simple enough tracking spell and while it'd fall under _wasteful use_ , technically, better to have something harmless to save her hawking the few rooms in the place particularly given his familiar is sticking close rather than offering sarcastic remarks as he tends to whenever she comes over. That fact is even more important because if this is a bad episode that means sound dampeners are up too, it had been quite a while since the last but they're as unpredictable as the tides at times... Better to play it safe and with a flick of the wrist, the hunt begins.

The light flits to and fro as though needing to get it's bearings first then dashes over to the closed door of his own room and hovers there unable to go further which is a sure sign something had been put up to keep things in or out depending. Alright then straight up knocking it is.

The sounds on the other side are at best vague and muffled though her patience is swiftly rewarded by it opening enough to allow her to slip inside before shutting. There is the man himself sitting on the bed with back to the wall with his precious guitar held close to his chest, absolutely surrounded by pieces of paper that had been hastily scribbled on or scrunched up accordingly, a no doubt stone cold tea cup and the presence of one particular glasses wearing cat who had claimed one of these for himself to sit on. Giving the doorframe another tap he's flashed a grin to get a much more sheepish look right back and little more than a flicked ear by the other. Charming.

"My someone's been busy," she says while he scrambles to make some space in the disaster area that had been his current song writing project. It did explain the lousy reception that's for sure.

"Hmn, a bit. Had something I needed to get out my head and guess the time got away from me a bit. Sorry love," he answers apologetically while gesturing with one hand, the other is hunting for the pen that had made a break for it into the pillows.

"Not left you hanging at the altar too long have I?"

Giving him a small thank you, his familiar is ceremoniously scooped into the air with a surprised _prrt_ then, after joining the pair on the duvet herself, he is given pride and place on her lap with a chin scratch before he can start complaining about being moved earning a quirked brow at the sheer display of blatantness. _Personally_ she finds how Archie plays favourites sometimes absolutely hilarious, he's complained enough times how he always gets told off if he'd tried to touch him there though having better scritching nails compared to how short he keeps his own probably helps tilt things in her favour.

"Nah, you get inspired you bunker up with the cat it's fine! Only payment I demand is whatever you're working on," she replies nonchalant waving at the stack of sheets.

"Gotta be something real good if you put a keep out sign _and_ I'm already here. So c'mon hit me."

"Sure I could do but I don't think it's ready, it's still rough as heck and I can't seem to get some of the words to come together how I want them to," Douxie groans putting a hand under his chin.

"Been driving me nuts honestly. S'like my brain just dumped them there and expected me to put them together again without any real input."

"It just means _she_ gets to hear the first draft and _you_ get an opinion other than mine," pipes up a voice of reason with a yawn.

"You've been going around in circles for the past hour anyway, a fresh test run is overdue."

Douxie seems to dither if to go ahead or not from the way his expression changes subtly between wanting to argue or just say to heck with it and yield to the pleading face and whined _pleeeeeease_ coming from across the bed. From how the instrument is moved back into a more playable position it seems the yes vote has won out if still a little bit reluctant about it. Fingertips grace the strings to test them without committing to anything, then a deep breath is taken for luck and he begins to play.

~

_On an eve of a night chilled with rain  
Did a door open to a world beyond  
Revealing a particular face  
On to be a future friend, another love  
With pursed lips and fire in her eyes  
Seeking shelter with the mundane_

_Thought nothing of it at the time like a fool  
Just wanted to be friendly  
Where could chat so innocently  
Enjoy that pleasant company  
All the while knowing  
Not getting attached was a hard and fast rule_

_We'd meet it'd seem again and again  
Upon desert shores and townships  
Admiring the ruins of ages and lives  
Share stories and freedoms  
Then part ways whilst knowing  
It was always a case of when_

_Messages would arrive upon a raven  
Crossing borders and seas  
Reminders that we're not alone  
Seeing the same sun, same stars  
Words to break the deafening silence  
But it'd never beat a real conversation_

**_Because I lived for the ones with you_ **

_Somehow in the future  
Upon a leyline in California  
While making a stop with a delivery  
There would be a flash of colour  
And I would say  
Hey I think I know her_

_I'd have both good days and bad  
Sometimes the cracks would show through  
Centuries of living does nothing it seems  
Covered in the dust and grime  
So I would deny and lie through my teeth  
And say everything is just fab_

_You're stronger than you know  
Over and over you'd say  
Team up with him and pin me down  
Hold those words to my face  
Then say together  
So don't hide away, let it show!_

_It still wears but gets better  
From the smile I carry you know it's true  
Nothing in the world can get to me  
I have a brother to help me breathe  
Plus someone to fight my corner too  
And know I'd always let her_

**_Because I love living in this world with you_ **

~

A beat passes as the last of the notes echo into nothingness.

Then a second.

Just as he is about to ask what she thought and apologise again for it being a little on the cheesy side, his stupid grey shirt is grabbed to yank him close enough to kiss him and hide the blush sweeping across her face whilst miraculously not accidently terfing Archie off. Despite initial freezing in surprise he quickly melts into something far softer and loving with a look that refuses to fade when their lips part again. It never gets old no matter how many times Zoe has seen him do it.

"You might be a sappy idiot Casperan, but you're _my_ sappy idiot."


	30. Exposure (Trollhunter!AU) - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuh this one isn't technically a drabble I'll be up front now more of a scene I woke up to one morning then had to get it down somewhere and this collection is ideal for preventing it being lost to the depths of Tumblr. Back on the 16th at an ungodly late hour for me somebody tossed an art idea they wanted to see and despite being incredibly tired I quickly scribbled something and the concept has been living in my head rent free ever since.
> 
> That idea? Trollhunter Douxie.

The way the revered elder of Trollmarket could so easily sneak up on even _Archie_ when he truly wished to was honestly alarming and every single time he could feel his skin bristle with goose bumps at the sudden boom of voice in his ear or tap of staff upon stone. It was looking increasingly unlikely he’d ever get used to it and from the way Zoe shot him a look that read, _seriously?_ it was a pretty shared sentiment that did nothing for the nerves when they were playing at being little more than modern teenagers with a pet.

“Trollhunter, a word in private if I may. Your companions will stay here until your return,” Vendel utters in that voice of his that commanded respect earned by his station. Before the wizard can even think of an answer to give back in turn they are already strolling away at a steady pace back up the pathway to the Heartstone with the expectation of being followed without a need to prod further. Letting out a defeated sigh knowing there was no point to even try arguing on this one, Douxie stands a bit closer so that the current cat can transfer shoulders easier since this particular invitation appeared to be denied to even his shadow which is a sting he’ll have to bear for now. If all hell went and broke loose at least they’d have one another’s backs.

“Alright you heard him you two, better behave yourselves,” he says giving him a gentle scratch on the head once draped comfortably enough as though he belonged completely without shame.

“Pfft we’ll wait to start the riot _until_ you get back, promise.”

They’re given a dramatic eye roll before he is quick to catch up and fall into step not wanting to cause any insult by making him wait whilst ensuring to walk just behind as you are meant to with those of a higher status than yourself along with folding his hands out of sight for it would seem tapping into old habits as naturally as breathing. If it was considered a bothersome trait it is certainly not voiced aloud.

“Any reason you just want me alone, sir?” He asks trying to dampener the worst of his curiosity to simply get a huffed noise back as though it should be obvious to even a mere child.

“Cats are not the only one with ears, I trust you are well aware of this fact.”

“… Ah.”

The remainder of the walk finishes in silence beyond the sounds of their footsteps and the gentle thrum of the essence of fire captured in living crystal until they both disappear from the sight of his closest friends. His mind whirls with questions and there merest hint of panic for what he might be blindly going into without any form of support other than the Amulet currently sitting in the pocket of his hoodie. Already he begins to map out an escape route should it come to that.

It could be counted on one hand the amount of times he’s had the privilege of coming to the workshop, despite the job title the trolls were surprisingly skittish about letting mere humans anywhere near the place like a bad omen would be beckoned by considering it. The low whistle passed his lips before it could be stopped in awe of how the colours seemed even brighter and gentle warmth vibrated strong though instead of admonishment it is only treated with amusement. Surprisingly Douxie is allowed to wander a little, making sure not to touch because you really shouldn’t be, looking between the facets and stone with almost childish awe. It is only when a light cough is heard that he snaps back to attention and comes to stand before the Elder again a mite sheepish but not regretful.

“Before I give the reason I summoned you here I wish to convey that repeatedly you have proven yourself knowing the value of secrecy and as the Elder of Heartstone Trollmarket I can only reiterate the appreciation for the discretion despite the difficulties it must cause to you upon the Surface. I misjudged his choice as error though I hope you can forgive and understand why that conclusion so struck me,” is stated using the official tone seldom used beyond addresses. In a breath, the milky gaze turns serious and pins him down to the spot.

“While many of my compatriots may be blind to a truth before their very eyes, I however am **not.** It is through this same curtsey I give you this privacy to state your case.”

Eyes widen a fraction and with not knowing how best to react he simply feigns ignorance while desperately trying to ignore the oppressive aura coming from the larger troll’s presence making his heart beat faster.

“I’m sorry…?”

“Boy, did you really believe I would be so ignorant to not recognise a soul bond mark when I saw one? Trolls may not dabble in the kinds of magic you humans do nor to the extent but our hands are dipped into the same waters.” The tip of the staff makes a resounding bang on the floor making him flinch.

“And I most certainly hope you do not consider me a fool and attempt to lie to my face beyond this point, wizard.”

_Fuzzbuckets_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do actually know what happens after this but I decided to keep it close to my chest in case I end up using it somewhere. This AU is a complete disaster in every respect though which is likely why I'm enjoying thinking about it so much.
> 
> This is in fact now [a fic I'm writing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419893/chapters/67023250)! Whether this particularly scene happens or not is up for debate but if you want more Trollhunter Douxie goodness I got you covered.


	31. Alive - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes hi while my computer was out of action I put a thing out for another drabble writing meme because I have no control over my life and they might actually stay drabble like this time. I literally just finished this one, figured since it let me go on a troll lore bender again I'd toss it into this collection as well. Tis the Gumm-Gumm General Gnasha I kidnapped again and they go by they/them pronouns!

_War was coming_. 

There would be no escaping it nor could there be any denial of the approaching storm that carried the will of Morka upon the kloka’s soothing embrace. The shining lights of fallen warriors who now rest with their ancestors watch over their living kin with judgmental ire that their own blades would be stayed and remain thirsty. The true price of glory is an unquenchable appetite beyond the grave.

Their spiteful little human King was pushing relentlessly now snatching even the useless Dwoza fools who strayed too far if they were not dragged screaming into the Ram first without a prayer nor mercy. Oh how they’d love to rip the head from their shoulders for allowing, nay ensuring a desecration to all Trolls for the only crime of existing near their so-called settlement! But alas the honour of _that_ kill will not be theirs to take. The knights however, the ones that parade without a helmet opening themselves as targets would be a pleasure, particularly the one who had already lost an arm to an ambush and only breathes through the luck of one beyond any of them.

_Heh_

It was only a matter of time before the order was given for the end of it and the Generals of the army to once more take to the Surface and slaughter, devour and destroy until nothing was left but dust. They showed no mercy to them, why should they back? The Gumm-Gumms are protectors of **all** those who dwell beneath Klokaran whether they realise they have been given such a gift or not. Even a coward could be useful in the future but the fleshbags will be little more than aggravating meat unwilling to accept their place in life. They look forward to every single beat that draws that potential time ever closer. Soon, soon.

Regardless it was important that the Generals always looked their best lest they risk being caught unprepared when the war horns will blow. It was why they had sought out the only other one present in their current camp of the Wild Woods (Human name, a stupid one at that) of their rank. The Krubera was in one of the few spaces big enough to accommodate a larger troll to sit, checking over their armour for damage sustained in a recent skirmish, pushing out dents more nimbly with fingers than a hammer could manage. The peaceful little scene amused them.

“You look worn, Aarghaumont, your colours are faded,” they utter with a snort. When a large head lowers in respect to their presence, Gnasha presses their own forehead against his in a friendly greeting of equals despite the comments suggesting their feelings being far otherwise. They still remember the little whelp of moss that played with the Prince in younger times, one of many who were spared the sins of their kindred and brought into a far better purpose than languishing uselessly underground.

“Stay where you are, do not waste your time with the ruz and allow me to freshen your flesh. We cannot be allowing the Skullcrusher to see you in a state like this can we? We have an example to set.”

The scarred smile is almost friendly and their golden eyes gleamed for as much as they loved the roars of the battlefield there was something almost comforting about the act of preparing for one too.


	32. Inury - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second of these I wrote yesterday and we're back to Otto suffering apparently and a bit of changeling lore as I was clearly on a thing for that. Leaning towards doing the really sad Douxie prompt next, we'll see how today goes!
> 
> Warning for injury.

There are rather few pleasures that came with being part of this existence in the form of a changeling if an honest answer was to be given. After all, so despised on all fronts with hisses of tricksters, lairs and noteworthy backstabbers where could you ever snatch anything positive? True they could enjoy things _one_ side had over the other such as proper dental hygiene and wine or the quicker transportation routes below ground but the wise know that there is no true safety in either of those worlds. It would perhaps come as a surprise to outsiders that the Lady had foreseen that while they may walk in the sun’s light or the moon’s glow unheeded even the cleverest amongst them would still be left fighting the tide in her name. Thus when she had first begun her research into those who would be declared her children in the future it was decided that she would gift them favours to give them an edge. For example? Their bodies filled with magics rarely face the same sickness the likes trolls or humans suffered. Such a small thing and yet this proved highly advantageous for careful nudging or infiltrating knowing there would be no risk of being struck down with the rest of the unwashed masses.

Alas, the same could not be said for injuries or the equally infuriating cracked glasses.

A mere fleshbag managing to get the jump on _him_ of all people? Ugh, perish the damn thought of anybody finding out! Or even worse Stricklander did, he is still firmly on his immense power trip with his private assassin in his pocket and this would be an opportunity ripe for the picking… No no no point worrying about that now, better to keep trying to stem the bleeding with a pilfered jacket lest somebody notice the colour was hm, unusual? Yes, that is probably a good word. It’s not like the owner will be needing this anymore, their knife might have slipped under his rib cage because they were stupid enough to follow the attack first ask questions later mindset but they severely under estimated the strength belayed by this humble face that was his preferred appearance, or at least would have done until their head cracked into concrete. At least their blood was the correct colour and added to the effect of walking wounded.

Hospitals however whatever form they came in would never cease to disgust him, they are utterly rancid places under the mask of cleanliness, filled to the brim with the breath of those dragged into this life as much as those slipping away from it wrapped in shiny whites and relentless footsteps on ill suited floors. How misfortunate it was that this wound would look too suspicious without stitches holding it together and a safe house risked passing far too many eyes to get to. This American system as ugly as it was had the decency to place him in a room with privacy away from the other humans when a credit card was flashed. The rare advantage of worshipping infinite Gods of nothing he supposed. The jacket is allowed to drop to the floor as uselessly as the owner had while he worked gingerly away at the buttons of his own under shirt after letting the suspenders drape off his shoulders for easier access to whomever might come in.

The doctor who enters the room with an apology for tardiness causes surprise for but a moment and when his eyes quickly scan the ID tag it was though everything had slotted into place at once with conniving recognition. Her. Stricklander’s little beau he seemed so desperate to hide as much as his lax attitude with the Trollhunter. _How delightfully ironic and him without the means of testing the waters_. A shame, truly.

“Dr. Lake I presume? Ah, please forgive the ramblings of the injured! A close colleague of mine has mentioned you a few times and I,” the smile is wide and friendly despite the flinch of pain when he tries to giver her a mock bow.

“I must admit the pleasure of meeting you in the flesh for myself could have been in far better circumstances than these. Your reputation truly proceeds you, I have heard nothing but good things.”


	33. Visiting a grave/shrine - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it is important to carve a little space for yourself while mourning. However when you have lived for centuries there are certain people you want to do a little bit more as a tribute to their life, their influence or their stories aka the person who sent me this prompt had some regrets but in a good way~

Often it is the most subtle of tells that give a trained eye or dedicated ear an indication that something is amiss. A crack of twigs from a pursuer’s footsteps, the scent of smoke traced from an old fire, bare earth that should have been churned after recent rains or here where it was a wisp that felt distinctly of _magic_ in the air with no obvious root that was nourishing it. Sensitive fingertips would be able to follow like a wisp guiding them to an invisible wall obscuring a space that looked little more than a cluster of old worn trees beginning to shed greenery for autumnal colours from the outside, hardly any more special than any of the (Relatively) young woodland that surrounded it yet the gentle hum spoke of wards. Clearly there was something worth protecting here that could not be left unprotected should the creator be forced to leave it be.

 _That_ is what made this place highly intriguing he muses while the air is traced to see where it might lead. After all, what was this particular fool wasting their abilities on? A gentle repulsion could be felt that tries to steer him away which is easy enough to ignore suggesting they expected ramblers trampling the landscape not anything that may prove dangerous. Something personal perhaps that had to be secreted away from prying eyes but accessible to the creator? Their very presence was making leaves fall from cold and as amusing as it was answers would not come from out here and thus he presses onwards while refusing to let bare feet grace neither bark nor dirt.

The roots and branches become thicker beyond that outer wall showing not all was a visual trick to keep trespassers out, it was a cute attempt certainly but he could use the same small gaps and places an animal might as long as he was mindful of the length of horns attached to the skull he wore. There were browse lines showing evidence of deer and scampering up above showing it was tried to keep as natural as possible for the residents and he suspects his sister would appreciate such a kindness if she were to see it. Frost begins to creep up one of the trunks in hissed spite even without the staff touching it.

_Wherever it was she had been snatched away to leaving them behind_

It takes a few more steps had Skrael been walking for more sunlight began to trickle through more and more until the area finally opens up revealing… _Flowers_? He blinks bewildered. Every direction his head turns reveals colours of all varieties from bright pinks to the softest blues and shapes he could not hope to recognise yet even despite this some manage to stir memories that are very **old** even to him, lost little things that had felt disappeared from the world entirely yet were somehow here alive like fragments of era’s gone by scattered amongst shrubs and fungi looking like a chaotic and frenzied mess yet somehow fitting together like a jigsaw. Every single one had their pride and place here and a marker of some form both carved and plain set by their roots or body depending on what it was addressing though as to what these were supposed to be for he could not possibly discern.

His immediate reaction to a spike of a magical aura is to draw his prized weapon ready to strike with an annoyed hiss that this cretin managed to escape his sight and is only accompanied by bared teeth when he realises who exactly it is.

_H i m_

The young wizard eyes him suspiciously and in a surprising comparison does not draw his own weapon nor makes use of his bracer tool. He is clearly not happy but equally makes no attempt for an immediate eviction for his being found here. Giving a snort of dismissal and a derisive sneer to make his intent of _not_ leaving rather clear his eyes fall upon the small stone statue of what looks to be some form of bird held in his hands. Unusually the eyes have been painted in a vivid blue and there is what could be a staff clutched between the out-stretched talons.

“Nari has no influence on this place, it’s all my doing,” he says curtly gripping the object tighter to his chest while being mindful of the strings of daffodils flowering behind his feet. They are completely out of their regular season. 

“And you better not even think about starting anything **here** of all places. I’m sure even you guys have something to act as a memorial, must be extra ironic given the _Order_ is the reason a new one has to be added.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts for you:
> 
> Daffodils are the national flower of Wales  
> They are an annual bulb that flowers in Spring so huh that's sure weird  
> What Douxie is holding is indeed a Merlin statue because I love one tiny murder bird


	34. Reading • Under the stars - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm still surprised of this batch Nomura was the only one who didn't get an angsty prompt but she wanted to be salty about things anyway. Two left to go!

Nomura has been described as many things over her years amongst humankind, trolls or her fellow changelings. Backstabber, bloodthirsty, solider, loyalist, _impure_ , homewrecker, foreigner, harpy, hellhound, theatre freak, **traitor** and so many more that merrily skittered across the line of repeatable in even fairly reasonable company but such was life. Her existence was not one created that made friends but to carry out her duties to the letter in the name of both the Lady and Lord Gunmar… Or at least it had been until the end of the world fell onto their doorstep soaked in the flesh and blood of her siblings and thus she had screamed back, _not fucking today_ with both blades drawn demanding payback in the form of an even fresher slaughter of the enemy.

Being called kind however? Ugh, the concept alone was disgusting and had quite rightly never been uttered her direction. It was _certainly_ something she had no plan to encourage yet the child who had managed to worm his way under her permanent stone flesh occasionally mentioned all too gleefully that for all her barbs she was if you could ever get past it no matter how much she handed threats to maim. She snapped back he was far too soft and it was a wonder he was still breathing which kind of proved the point.

Peh.

At least the trolls seemed to agree with her own view on the subject, shooting glares her direction or muttering under their breath as though she’d never hear every single word or perhaps they were banking on it? The gravel eating fools, you protect their undeserving but they’d cling to old hatred until they were dust if not for the Trollhunter giving them gentle nudges that those lines of them and us no longer mattered. Humans were no better about that one either were they? A _other_ in whatever guise is something to be latched onto as a potential threat that it is only a matter of time before they do something to prove their point while handing over their vapid doctrine towards their children with the same spite they’d spit at her. His eyes couldn’t watch them all the time they all knew it and it is possibly a good thing that they’re too stupid to know what being flipped off truly meant even if it caused two to let out a startled squawk and yells to stop which could truly only be taken as encouragement.

Whenever the excuse allowed for it she would carefully slip away from the trudging gait of the motley caravan and wander the night alone abusing the stealth honed from a personalised hunting technique that could shroud even her bright colours from sight. Not that any of them would give a damn if she vanished for good (With one sole exception, perhaps the other kid too if she felt generous) but there are whelplings who could follow out of curiosity and she was not dealing with the fallout that would cause… The night was fiercely young and so with her few meagre possessions she left the coddled behind to bitch and moan about whatever took their fancy that the changeling couldn’t care less for.

Passing through the trees at speed whilst ensuring to keep hoof off the ground, through the gaps in the branches above whenever she glanced up to check her position revealed the sparkle of stars dotting the cloudless sky. It was disgustingly picturesque, a reminder of both what had been left behind when the sunlight was stolen and the new where she still not allowed to walk without constant reminders of how little her worth was deemed by others, a knife edge balance that never seemed to pay off.

It is only when the silence is interrupted by little more than the presence she creates does she finally slow, confident of not being followed or risking discovery by any idiot hiker that might be lurking about near a campsite. An easy problem to solve previously but now murder was supposed to be a no go as was scaring which was massively disappointing… Being “good” took all the fun out of life. Another two jumps leads downwards with a soft clatter the messenger bag removed from her shoulders within an easy movement. Taking one last glance around Nomura settles herself in the crook of the thickest roots to read a battered Timothy Wilson which had been donated to her personal collection beyond the sneers of contempt for handling _human_ writings.

At least for a while she is left be, ten minutes at a guess, though the interruption while annoying does not particular surprise when it comes. His attempts to sneak were poor at best, he’d been on the tips of her hearing for a couple of minutes now even without the clunk of armour constantly giving away his position while he still got used to the new gait and enhanced spring in his step. More practice was in order and that idiot Blinkous certainly could never give it from the way he tramples without a care.

“You’re not subtle, Gynt. You need to work on your approach.” She feels he still, a light smirk on her lips for soundly calling him out when clearly he had expected to be able to get the drop on her instead. The book is then held up for the teen to see before the question is asked revealing it as per typical of her one on renaissance ceramics before it is returned to her lap with a turned page.

“It might have been a false life, but it was _mine_. You are not the only one that has attachments to the things we lost.”


	35. Stuck in a trap - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck in a trap was a weird prompt so I tried to go for the less obvious? This one involves the troll OC Eir (Healing-and-promises) on Tumblr and the slightly unusual professional relationship that got formed with the Order in regards to supplies with a side order of tangent as seemed to be the way with this batch of drabbles.

There are many ways to define being trapped if you were to break down the concept into simple terms to teach another. The most obvious of course is the physical kind such as a bear trap enclosed around a limb as a crude example, led into a room without doors or perhaps a misplaced foot triggering a hidden dart. The subtler art is one of obligation and loyalty, somewhat like an unwritten contact you cannot possibly walk away from because an invisible noose tightens by the step and claws reach out to drag you back into the fold.

You might even point out, if you felt daring enough, that there is a very particular irony in that that changelings and the fabled Trollhunter shared such a thing in common with their own knives dangled playfully above their heads. Neither will enjoy the luxury of departing this world in old age though you could suppose the changeling half was worse given the unfortunate habit of threats of devourment being all too real. You get used to it as unusual background noise soon enough however, **you have to**.

These unwritten rules that run their lives claim rather clearly that all trolls that are not already part of the horde are a potential threat to the Order and as a Leader and Head of the organisation it is not something to be innocently ignored lest the wrong questions be asked… Or those seeking an easy in to the top to ultilise. Even those who clearly have no love for the Heartstone Trollmarket, well everyone knows how easily a good word can turn into a lie just as quickly, yes? It is only natural after all! A contract needed to be sought in word and blood, something binding that if one attempted to backstab the other (And was caught, naturally) that whatever the determined repayment it generates would be gifted to the other party. It would be a suitable arrangement for everyone, paperwork for those who insisted on proof and a small comfort in a world without any that the extra food supplies would remain unmarred.

With a working pen ready, a spare beside and a dual-language contract contained in a manila envelope sitting in his breast pocket, Otto Scaarbach travels to the drop off point and awaits for an arrival so that all the t’s will be crossed and I’s dotted as is good and proper. It was only a matter of time and on such a pleasant day as this he was in no rush to waste it.


	36. Stuck in a trap • Dazed and/or Confused - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last of the current drabble set! Douxie is not having a fun time but he'll be fine, ish, kinda just give him a minute first alright?

Okay if anybody asks later, no regrets the early falling part was fun.

Even if it did mean being stuck out in the middle of nowhere that had lots of pokey branches that scratch and stab you when you tumble straight through them. There would be a lot of bruises lurking in the wings but that’s a future him problem. Same for the fact that their landing might have been a _tad_ on the unplanned side and he’d only spared being worst by yet another emergency escapade with anti-gravity spells that aren’t quite there yet (But then it is very special circumstances it’s used, understandable!) and _certainly_ didn’t stop his ribs being jostled about like one of those old coin machines.

It would be nice however if there stopped being three Archie’s held in his arms though, plus he was feeling dizzy floaty, floaty dizzy? That doesn’t want to shift when he shakes his head so that is probably not a good thing. There is a vague feeling of what could be a paw patting the side of his face but it isn’t registering all too well. More of a distant ripple than anything else. Everything’s weird like it’s shifted ever so slightly out of kilter to the right and doesn’t want to settle.

“ _That_ certainly could have gone somewhat better, are you quite alright, Douxie? You look a little pale.” The dragon is looked down upon with slightly bleary eyes.

“Mn.”

“Very helpful, open your mouth and let me see please.”

It doesn’t make any sense being asked that but far be it to tell his familiar otherwise he does as he’s told with the scant feeling the brush of texture on his chin. His clones have reduced to two which is hopeful but remains stubbornly blurry around the edges, that bit is less so.

“You didn’t bite your tongue, good. You can close it again now, that’s it.” If he had the energy to think he’d have given a look for that but the best he can manage at the precise moment is looking only more confused and to blink slowly.

“I think it’s safe to say this experiment of yours was a miss, hm? While I appreciate you trying to keep the worst of it from me this appears to have done quite the number on you instead.”

“S’fiiine.”

“Hardly. You are sitting tight for now and we have to hope that you didn’t manage to concuss yourself, agreed? I can keep an ear out and - That means stop moving this instant!”

The leg that tried and failed to get a grip on the ground suddenly stops and he can’t even manage to appear innocent. Archie holds a paw to his own head and sounds utterly exasperated.

“You are always a handful like this I swear. Now I’m just going to take your phone and perhaps figure out where you’ve ran us off to while you are going to be good and do what you’re told. Understood?”

“Gea.”

“…Good enough. Now give me a mo-“

Archie twitches an ear then flattens both with a protective hissed growl aimed in a direction Douxie didn’t have the mind at all to grasp. The noise jolts him a little to attention but anything beyond the immediate swims too much and he’s forced back into trying to focus on the feel of ground clutched under his fingers instead where the sensation of touch is being highly reluctant to retreat back into being. The vibrations are easier to make out as they thrum through his chest, the wizard settles for those instead. The temperature dropping by one tic to another to lower is as much beyond his comprehension as the fact it shouldn’t be able to without the aid of magic to guide it.

He just needs another minute, then he’ll be fine.

 _Really_.


	37. The youth of Camelot - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New drabble meme challenge! This one was various memories and boy my inbox is full of them so it's gonna take me a wee while to wade through them all and because I got the same prompts repeatedly for some characters they are _not_ in the chapter titles this time to make them easier to tell apart on the drop down menu. This particular one contains some subtle references to [First Encounters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660379)!
> 
>  **Prompt:** A childhood memory

The knights and guards he had decided were annoying as the flies in the height of summer though you’d never hear him say so out loud just in case the wrong person overheard and became more willing to wave a finger in the direction of whatever hiding place he was in. That happened to Barden last week who granted _was_ an idiot in his mind, after all he had bragged proudly about slipping through the legs of pursuers five deep with freshly snatched expensive meat held in his arms and then ended up barely managed to escape by the skin of his teeth when the blacksmith deliberately dropped his wares to spook him out of cover. Douxie in comparison wasn’t about to take any chances by doing the same thing outside hushed whispers for only a handful of ears and besides he had Archie to think about too after they’d promised to have each other’s backs no matter what. Still, it didn’t make things any less tense watching the last few of them run down the streets bellowing at the top of their lungs because they heard of a theft and wanted some action in the day to day though which makes him grimace. Thing is, he like many before him he now shares the footsteps of had long figured out that they rarely bothered to look _up_. Well there was that and more importantly there were all sorts of little gaps that only a kid (Or a cat) could squeeze through, it was one of those he’d used to get here in the first place.

Letting out a relieved sigh the eight-year old shuffles away from the roof edge, it was one of those strange builds that had a flat area built into it for some reason, maybe storage? It beat hiding in thatch or scrabbling across loud tile either way so he wasn’t really complaining. Looking at his tiny haul sitting in his lap it wasn’t very much really and wouldn’t be filling even one stomach today but at the time he hadn’t been willing to push his luck too far and given he was already sneaking away when someone yelled his instinct proved right even if it _hadn’t_ been at him specifically. The two of them had well set routine of one acting as look out while usually it would be him trying to grab something that wouldn’t be too solely missed before the other would then act as a distraction in a bit of misdirection to make escaping easier and had honed it to perfection over time. Neither had come even remotely close to being captured yet and long may it continue! Their little band of survivors they flitted amongst from time to time often called them good luck but he thought it was silly, there was nothing particularly special about them they were stuck with no real place to go as much as the rest…

Admittedly he could do a little magic even if it was nothing too grand and Archie wasn’t _really_ a cat but nobody needed to know that, it was their secret. It’s why they sometimes dabbed his chest (A soul bond mark he said it was called) in ash and charcoal dust to make him stand out less but changing shape seemed to mess it up a lot for some reason. He did adore how he could do that though and they’d spent many a night right before the sun had finished setting seeing what things he could become before both snuggled down to sleep. Never had a cold night since they found one another and that was why he shared blankets with others who needed them far more.

Hm, okay there had been no more noise so maybe the coast was finally clear? The best bet now would be to meet up by the fountain where there would be plenty of faces to blend in with and from there head for the spot they’d been camping out this past week or however long it had been. There were _several_ meeting spots scattered around Camelot he had committed to memory but that one was the closest and would let him slake his thirst at the same time given somebody had borrowed the little cup from their previous home without bringing it back. It was probably Cei, they had a little sister to look out for too who was coughing a lot last he heard from them and he couldn’t really blame them for it but it didn’t make it any less annoying when any other good container was so hard to come by. The scraps that served as a reward for a successful heist are put into the pouch on his belt and then he hauls up onto his feet making sure to stretch first because nothing could be worse than a leg getting mad at you while trying to slip quietly between the tiny alleys because some people seemed to have a sixth sense about these things and looked when it happened, he’d had enough of those types of scares for the time being frankly. Peering over to the streets for one last bit of recon he takes the chance to slip back to the cobbles and start walking as though he was just a child on an errand and not one of the ‘less desirables’ as they were frequently dubbed.

It didn’t stop the flinch from happening when a lady happened to raise her voice though.

Douxie sat on the edge for a little while as he waited, sweeping his fingers through the water when he wasn’t shamelessly grabbing a handful to drink or to wipe down his face. From experience people rarely thought anything of it it’s when you started splashing your feet around they tended to get upset and well it was far too cold for that right now and wasn’t exactly a crowd of other kids he could be mistaken for either. Nobody teaches you the rules when you’re out here on your own, everything came from hard won experience and observation or just watching somebody else get caught and learn not to do that pretty sharpish, easy really. He’d make sure to smile at anyone who looked his direction and wave because he found it paid to be polite and keep adults on your side too.

The prrted noise gets his attention before a small black shape materialises beside him, head cocked to one side with gold eyes giving him a non-too subtle once over to make sure he was fine and nothing had happened in the time they’d been apart by circumstance despite the lack of glasses. With a soft smile Douxie offers one of the scraps with one hand while he scritches the cat’s head with the other to try and give him that bit of reassurance. He’d happily go hungry if it made sure Archie got enough to keep him going for another day, his familiar had earned it far more than he had and a rumbling stomach was a much of a companion as he was by now he was more than used to it by now and can’t help the genuine laughter caused by his fingers being tickled as they are licked clean though or the paw that praises on his arm to stop it moving away before he’s finished. Sometimes it was easy to forget what he really was with how well he acted the part and somehow that made everything feel that bit reassuring: He was just a kid with a dedicated cat, nothing more.

“So when you’re done, you ready to head home?”


	38. The perils of a whelpling Prince - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next prompt involves General Gnasha the Gumm-Gumm General I shamelessly kidnapped, are mine now and go by they/them pronouns. This one also contains whelp Bular because sometimes you need cute in your life.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A fading memory

Trolls are a very long lived race compared to many that inhabit this world so it should be understandable that memories are imperfect, eroding with time leaving much of their younger lives held only through emotional attachment or cause giving them those last hooks to hang onto as they fade into mute first, then losing their details bits by bit until little more than blobs of colour. Finally sensation and feeling is taken away last in the final ebbs before finally turning entirely to dust.

One that still clung on even now was that of a little rock-hide rabbit who could barely muster a growl, no instead they simply vibrated in anger in an attempt to be fierce while stomping their hands to appear far bigger than they were that only added to the adorable nature in their eyes even if they would not tell him so youthful pride being what it was. Dark as Klokarp when the void claimed the skies, nubs that would become a crown and so much more bristle than their sire, one day it could make them a _good_ hunter if they learned any patience but from the way the same whelp often clambered about huffing and puffing as though it were little more than an obstacle to be conquered such things would be a long way off happening. For now the best they can muster is preventing them from getting hurt or their annoying habit of trying to throw their non-existent weight around forgetting that title means little if unable to back it up even if at worse you will simply be nudged aside by a foot. It was truly a great honour to be entrusted by the Skullcrusher with such an important task but at times the sickly little thing caused far more worry than pride not helped either when they scarcely remember ever being on nursery duty given their own status as General kept them away from the more delicate age of their future warriors. Protection was easy and a noble pursuit, _looking after_ or simply _caring_ however was not and yet somehow the expectation was to be both, failure was an option that was not even conceivable.

In the present moment blunted claws had scrabbled up and around their back until they sat near their crown now making a rather valiant attempt at gnawing a hole in their left horn having gotten bored from their other adventuring efforts being a mini mountaineer across crystal spines. With a snort he is ceremoniously plucked by the scruff gaining a teeny yelp when he is half dragged until left to hang in front of their face thankfully not too high sitting on their haunches as they are. Arms are crossed over their chest and the attempt at a fiercely adorable glare with twitching the stub of a tail is oh it’s hard not to smile at, the right attitude had been firmly cemented early. Good.

“I am not your teething toy, _scrap_ , use the bones you’re given for that.” His mouth opens and utters something indignant making full use of the vocabulary he possessed and that is what finally allows a rough chuckle to slip through.

“Adornments are my _trophies_ from battle, you will earn them like the rest of us when you may hunt for your own kills but for now ankles should be your biggest target.”

A huff, he was fierce he deserved **more** than the title of biter of ankles! The eye roll is blatant but they are placed back onto the ground and given a rough pat making his fluff become even more pronounced. Before they can act up further their nose is poked gently with a claw earning another squeak of fury because how dare! But it does get his attention away from starting to sulk.

“If your prey tumbles then you can keep them there even at your size, if that weak spot snaps they cannot even stand. Use your disadvantage and turn it into an advantage, they won’t believe you can do it; do you seek to prove them correct?”

Wide red eyes blink looking up to their far larger guardian then scooting to the side to see beyond them to the world they only been allowed into a mere handful of times with careful escort such was the rarity of him being well enough to be taken.

“Then how about we see what the wilds have to offer the fabled Prince of Gumm-Gumms? The Ram is gone, the hour now belongs to us. I may even allow you to ride in my mane if you prove trustworthy and practice your ability for quiet.”

There is a indistinct sensation that a hunt was on after that moment but they cannot remember how successful it was for it had been too long now, only that there was a measure of pride tattered at the edges.


	39. Across the threshold - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason these have gone for young Douxie so far whenever he comes up, maybe that will change? Who knows I barely know what's happening ahead of writing.
> 
>  **Prompt:** An eye opening memory

The walk with the famous wizard ( _The_ Merlin! It felt unbelievable to even be near him let alone this) had been spent in hushed whispers between boy and familiar with a jerk of a chin here or a glance there watching the few onlookers who might normally wave a little or slip him a coin or scrap now gawping at the sight of who he carefully walked behind. He knew these streets well enough; they were being taken a bit off the beaten track to not attract even more attention which seemed a good idea given all the trouble he’d already caused and the awareness of that was reassuring. It’s funny to think about how it really _was_ one mistake and that all it would take and being confronted with that reality with swords pointed at your neck was not something either of them wanted any repeat of any time soon. It still felt weird though, almost something worth being _happy_ about that somehow the second worst thing to ever happened to them had gotten them noticed and an offer given with a smile that didn’t look to be done out of pity.

His head was positively bustling with ideas and thoughts though he was admittedly a little sad when he was told there could be no detours for anything not on their person was part of an old life he was leaving behind and they would not be needed anymore. He wanted to argue just a little bit but after seeing how he made time simply _stop_ for those soldiers he bit his lip and kept quiet instead. Hopefully one of the others would find his stashes, he loved the few books he’d managed to scrounge from the heaps or fallen off the back of carts, they were like windows to a beyond he could scarcely dream of…

Until _now_ it seemed.

They had seen the castle many times if in the distance because nobody would be _stupid_ enough to go anywhere near the place unless they wanted a warrant on their heads, even Barden knew that and he was _Barden_. Yet there was something about standing before the very doorway where titles carried more gold than a pocket could while people fiddled around on the other side that struck as even more ominous than he thought possible. Here there were these huge thick wooden pieces laced with iron that parted down the middle that were being pushed open to allow them passage inside that wore no grandeur compared to the gleaming whites of the walls nor did they have any of the speckled colours of the streets he was far more used to. The standing guards were watching _them_ particularly through the slits of their helmet and he holds Archie even closer to his chest whilst darting behind the Master Wizard suddenly overcome with nerves.

It was a nasty but inescapable thought, one that said how their _being_ here could be leading the pair of them straight into a trap which in a sense it was given the King was none too subtle about his hatred of magic plus it was what got them into this mess in the first place wasn’t it? Their lives as they knew them were literally being held in another’s hands, the same ones who belong to someone who had refused to look at them since that kindly smile that had told him to follow and frankly it was **terrifying** making the temptation to bolt while he still could rise by the breath.

“Was sparing you the sword not enough to ease your concerns?”

The sudden voice and the gaze that seemed almost _amused_ from the raised brow causes the twelve year old to squawk in surprise and for a cat to let out a noise of disgruntlement at being jostled though thankfully his glasses aren’t knocked at least. It’s still strange nothing has been said about him unless he hadn’t realised what Archie was? Surely he did being a Master and all but it seemed best to play it safe, he couldn’t bear the idea they could be taken apart if a foot was put wrong. When he says nothing in answer the wizard turns to face him with eyes refusing to leave his own.

“Nothing is going to happen to you here, child, you are in safe hands.”

“I mean no offense,” Douxie mumbles lowering his gaze and in his lack of ability to fidget a tail tip twitches on his behalf.

“But we have all heard the stories, the idea of being on his majesty’s radar is-”

“Ah, fear is it? Understandable I suppose.” With a hum Merlin decides to kneel for a second time that day to be more at his level uncaring for how he is watched peculiarly by those on duty unused to seeing him act as anything other than aloof. His voice is spoken like a gently reassuring balm akin to the vibration that thrummed even closer than the words.

“While you will be in a sense as my _apprentice_ you will equally be not. Before now you have only allowed fear to inform your choices but never to control them, do you intend to start doing so now?”

Douxie’s breath hitches before he risks looking up feeling a sting of truth in the words, he hadn’t had he? A little fear was always good because it stopped you getting cocky ( _Or caught_ ) but if you let yourself become paranoid you wouldn’t ever take any risks or worse you’d simply starve. His stomach starts to turn into knots of indecision. He’d been allowed to bring Archie too despite it must look so silly that someone his age was so attached to a pet without dismissing him so they’d still have one another’s backs always, like they promised to. A paw presses gently on his arm in reassurance giving him enough courage to answer with a voice that still contained a touch of tremor but was far more confident in sound.

“No.” He is gifted a smile and in a surprise twist a pat on the head as the Immortal himself rises back onto feet and using his staff gestures through the doorway and the new life it contains beyond the threshold.

“Excellent, then let us see where it will lead then shall we?”


	40. Beware the backstreets - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the one that caused a hot debate if somebody getting shanked counts as angst or not.
> 
> Warning for somebody dying.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A vivid memory

There is a saying that you never forget your first time and in that respect humans might be correct, a first love, the first time you try a certain food, the first job you have, your first kill. Perhaps the latter is more of a changeling thing given so few of them choose to indulge themselves in the temptation? Yet despite that the general rule remains perfectly apt even to their kind. One thing always worth noting and more often than not neglected a serious mention is that their dying eyes will haunt the rest of your life though personally it would be wiser to hold onto that memory as a trophy of a job well done than any guilt for knowing you were the cause of their fading light. As the numbers totted up over the ensuing decades nothing could remove it from the top spot for that fact alone.

Even from a tender young age she had been an ambitious sort but not in the name of power that many of her siblings were, no hers came in the form of cementing herself as useful to the cause and reliable, the one you could count on to carry out orders not necessarily to the letter but the desired result would happen without fail. Prestige gives you a little bit more wiggle room with protection instead of only a target on your back that the politics would plus you would be even more within your right than usual to slaughter those who tried to backstab you in turn... Such a contrast to the prim and proper lady that her human life had expected of her, death’s etiquette works very differently than the ones of life and one she had embraced wholeheartedly.

The order was given via a drop akin to a plot line that would become popular in cinema in a not too distant future and one that was a test for competence in all but name: Cut your teeth by removing someone who had the misfortune of seeing what they should not have or fail and have someone hunt both of you down. Additionally, use only what you have at your disposal until you prove worthy of our precious wares. With the directions and a description of the target it was simple and to the point, nothing like the vast strides in photography or mobile phones the modern day took for granted but such was life when such things could have only been a mere fantasy.

To her utter annoyance the era and country had declared issue with women wearing so called menswear and with not willing to put up with the screeching of gossiping wives nor fines that might come with it she simply chose a matching long jacket, a typical high collared blouse underneath and skirt that just barely skimmed the floor abusing the light flare around the boot to further cover her footsteps and simply wore them underneath to lessen the chance of being caught if a swift change of appearance might be needed afterwards. The obnoxious bustle of the time was (Gleefully) declined though unfortunately the hat alighted with ribbon was in forced attendance giving a touch of colour in purple perched as a threatening talking point. Through no fault of her own she stood out amongst these people already being of different heritage trapping her even more in the social politeness of smiling like an empty-headed waif incapable of any thought while others pointed and whispered comments behind their hands as though she couldn’t hear every word.

Frankly it was disgusting.

With a lack of pockets of suitable dimensions she also wore a bag carried by the clasp because the straps clinged so uselessly to a shoulder they might as well not exist were it not for the threat of pickpockets eager to snatch that brought the added risk of drawing attention were their hands to be crushed. Still, it did the job otherwise in keeping the stolen scissor points from making any potentially scandalous holes in her wear and allowed her thoughts to turn to what will happen next when a quick glance to the street name shows she was not far from the expected rendezvous point that should contain the target. Only a few minutes more and then it would be showtime and it is enough for a genuine smile to slip through.

Squirreled away in an innocuous back-alley Nomura finds that the information was a little dated but remained passable at a push. His wear is a decade past it even to her uncaring eye, rough around the edges in all respects with a disgusting cream colour, ruffled shirt not to mention the top hat being worried by the brim and appearing so skittish you’d think he was expecting the shadows to come out and bite at any second. His eyes remain firmly staring at a door of the establishment that he must have been kicked out of yet remaining expectant despite it all without even the sense to knock or bang any more than realising he had been put out here to be forgotten. Glancing this way and that to judge for any further pedestrians she wanders closer as quietly as heel will allow with a palm held against her chest in surprise to further sell the effect while the other stealthily flicks the clasp open ready.

“My good sir, could there an issue?” She asks ever so sweet and not being above fluttering her eyelashes to enhance the concern being peddled.

“This seems like an _oh_ so dreadful place to be, why a rat could jump out at you at any turn!”

The man lets out a gasp on hearing her voice quickly turning to look at her then topples into a bow of greeting before a hasty return to standing straight with brown eyes much like a dish-eyed rabbit.

“Oh young miss! Please do not be afeared, I was asked to wait here to not startle the guests of the establishment. He was, ah, a little concerned about the impression I was giving to others.” The changeling makes a knowing sound at that as if a situation had happened to her or had heard of one before gesturing towards him then back to herself.

“You look about ready burst out of your very skin! Are you quite sure you are okay? If you permit my doing so I could always wait with you if you wish, sometimes good company may pass the time so much easier and I have such to spare it would not trouble me, at least twenty or so I believe.”

The way such a simple thing as mere _words_ makes the man blush bright red is somewhat amusing to behold and when he begins to stutter over a reply she decides to make the decision for him by placing herself by his side looking towards the fabled door then to the nameless as if to encourage an answer from his lips. Alas, only a squeak manages to come and a near drop of his hat that he makes quite the fine drama of retrieving before it topples to the ground like an idiot. Her furthest hand slips into the bag and grasps the metal handles tightly contrasting the sweet.

“I have heard rumours that the owner is a rather fearsome type with ill manners, it must be rather important if you sought them out.”

“Ye-Yes there was an incident you might say and I had sought advice… Perhaps even something else after I saw something very untoward, the church had already refused me charity and I liked to hope I would bode better here. Ah, I apologise for speaking such ill things to a lady I would hate for your heart to become scarred by the sins that pursue me.” The expression he is offered for his woes is one of kindness and soft mercy before a knowing shake of the head.

“Oh they _do_ pursue you know, right until the ends of this earth and beyond. I should know after all.”

Before a word of question has chance to leave his mouth her arm whips around like lightning and drives the scissors straight through his rib cage punctuating bone and lung with such force no human could hope to replicate. The initial breath he tries to draw is empty and he is left to stumble backwards with arms attempting to pinwheel until back meets brick and slumps down the wall until he can do so no more. With a tut she kneels beside him ensuring the fabric does not touch the ground rapidly turning bloodied from the seeping wound and pokes the very tip of his nose with a nail as though this was a little child and not a soon to be corpse she’d created.

“ _You poor thing_ , you were set up before you even got here didn’t you know?” Shamelessly glow is allowed to be revealed while he barely gargles with a vague flail of limb desperate to back away from the presumed monster smiling all too wide but only manages to slump further to the left.

“Let’s hope you fade out before anything worse than this town’s rat problem start to chew your fingers off, yes? All sorts of things lurk in the shadows not just your precious demons.”

Not fancying the risk of being caught and on the high of a job well done Nomura rises back to her feet, gives herself a quick dust off then strolls away waving a humble _toodles_ ~ to the dying who is choking on his own fluids. Slipping back amongst the oblivious citizenry beyond going about their day she leaves the goblins to finish their clean up without an audience. While it was a rather cheap slaughter all things considered there is the knowledge that when she’s allowed real toys she will be able to make everything so much more **fun**.


	41. The loved and lost - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll be up front here that this one is _not_ Zouxie because I had this prompt twice and wanted to do something a teeny bit different saving it for the other one as a reward for me wading through these things. Because I write Douxie as Panomantic, Ace and Non-Binary I just wanted to dabble in that for a change even though during this time period (Early 1200s at the latest Nahan in this case was the name of the country at the time long before the Capital took it during the rename) he wouldn't actually have any of those words yet. 
> 
> **Prompt:** A memory that involves romance/love

There’s a lot you can learn about a person when they kiss you even if it might be chaste. A cheek suggests familiarity or a willingness to embrace a stranger for example, the forehead could be a tender moment or a reassurance while the nose to make the other laugh or to simply be sweet and indeed there are a few cultures where even on the lips might be acceptable. Not here in Nahan though and certainly not when a piercing gaze is held with a face left lingering so close as if daring the shameless action to be objected to. They both know full well that he won’t but it doesn’t make it any less surprising that it happened in the first place which would account for the slight blush and how the words of a known charmer completely desert him right then and there.

Neither moves for one beat, then a second before a somewhat amused smile crosses his features.

“Surprise, huh?”

“Mmm, did you happen to like it?”

“Aniruddh, cannot think of a whole thing you’ve ever done I have _not_.”

“Then may I?”

The nod is enough encouragement to again cross the threshold with a hand daring to touch his hair while avoiding any risk of the face while the other simply drapes down his back. One kiss as chaste as the first swiftly turns into another and then a third that refuses to remain just so as if wanting to make up for lost time while the recipient slips his own arms around the waist wanting to keep him close rumpling the dhoti kurta in a manner that would probably not be approved of. They were safe from any eyes here mind and it’s what let Aniruddh dare after all; locals were courteous enough to leave the temporary stranger in their midst alone while behind closed doors after he’d proven more than deserving of the privilege for his actions over the past month. This is despite the issues of his Giripari remaining reasonably passable when surrounded by complete fluency and elaborate charades or written words becoming frequent between varying misunderstandings.

Prior to now one had been brazenly flirted with through very careful worded euphemisms to avoid being realised by the wrong ears in hopes it would break through the language barrier while the wizard in comparison had remained perfectly oblivious not realising that his natural state of being could be seen as flirting right back. After an entire week of grazing arms or almost touching hands with gentle whispers between the jokes and laughter or he who knocked incessantly in the wee hours refusing to accept mornings were not his strong point it was truly ironic in how stopping somewhere to recharge the social batteries as it were to be in a region so adverse to touching with strict rules on basic conduct had progressed into sharing something that had clearly long swept beyond being a mere mutual crush between the pair of them.

When they finally part once more he allows Douxie more movement to straighten out from the lean he’d been forced to take by releasing his hair for linking fingers with his other hand instead to still prevent him from going anywhere. Not that there was any intention to do so of course, not with that expression and a face as flushed as the cause’s own.

“Myne hertis, Adi,” he says softly, glancing down a moment as is polite before back again still mindful of putting a foot wrong even now.

“Name is fitting I hope you know, far braver than I.”

Hazel watches playfully, hanging on each word uncaring for the roughness of the tongue and the strange language he spoke with before it turned into something more familiar. He trusted the innocence absolutely.

“To do so and allow you leave our beloved country thinking otherwise? The oceans would cry at the tragedy they would be forced to endure and as would I,” he answers with earnest, gently tugging him a little closer to be easier to reach while the smile only grows at the compliance.

“Now perhaps we may share these final days of your presence in harmony the Gods willing, hm? I should not have to say how I am quite _taken_ with such an idea now.”

Lips are again captured in response earning a now muffled sound of agreement and a hope that a certain familiar has the sense to realise he’s not the only one here meaning strict shapeshifting protocol has to be adhered to assuming he didn’t catch sight and balk in the first place. As his eyes flutter closed Douxie innocently wonders if that maybe staying a few _extra_ days than they’d originally planned wouldn’t hurt at all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While difficult because of Douxie being on the move so much, they both wrote letters and the few he was able to receive when he stopped put anywhere he treasures greatly and still has them despite the length of time it's been which was it's whole other adventure. It's a bad idea falling for mortals but sometimes you can't help it and this was a rarer time he did indulge it being so much younger then. I have so many notes from this one including what happened during that final week and afterwards I never got to use but I tried to slip what I could in and be as accurate as possible. Worth bearing in mind when he caught feelings for Zoe even if he did end up with a crush on anyone else he didn't do anything about it because he felt it would be unfair to that person whiiich given how long it took for the two of them to start dating? _Yeah_.
> 
> If nothing else at least this made him realise people were mistaking his charm for flirting, he was a tad oblivious prior to that.


	42. Just one dance - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This would could be taken as a ship if you squint I suppose plus this one does refer to two things I recall seeing in the ship tag though not going to flag it as such just in case.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory that may or may not have happened

For as long as the changeling known as Otto Scaarbach had been part of the Janus Order there have been moments within a glistening career of backstabbing and espionage that felt questionable at best or a downright bane to his existence at worst. Many of the latter fall before his own rise to power so it is more than fair to have one or two of those lingering around the edges though others do not quite have the same luxury applied leaving them in the realms of potential blackmail material should the right ears get wind of them. An example? A human gala that was filled with fine purveyors of information amongst the elites of society who normally tight lipped tended to slip more with a drunken tongue and an event that was also annoyingly _insistent_ on all comers bringing a beau or indulgent friend on their arm. This was to ensure everyone knew someone while they mingled across what formed the estate’s ballroom the host had claimed and because it is so much more difficult to get lost as a pair which led to a very peculiar scenario of his being the plus one to Stricklander.

They had spent a couple evenings together prior purely in the sense of good business to co-ordinate over the guest list for the biggest potential catches and making careful notes of the layout and potential escape routes should things somehow turn ugly because one can never be too prepared. The press were being kept out seeing as it was a private affair meaning any needling would have to be done with exceptional care with anything gathered would need to be committed to memory in case it gave the impression they snuck in. A few gossip rags were poured over for any tidbits that could be used to appear _in the know_ and to avoid putting any feet in the wrong places though to him it only proved how truly vapid these creatures were. Did anybody truly care if a bit of skin was on show? Apparently, if the words were to be believed, the world was meant to be appalled by the idea but he personally did not see the appeal.

He will confess the current higher tier fashions were moderately acceptable and there had certainly been far worse eras to live through than these. They had decided to match cuts as best as they were able given the difference in build and height, one in a deep green while the other in a near navy blue and a brooch in the lapel shaped like mistletoe berries laid over dandelion leaves dipped in gold then scuffed to age them away from new while shoes were worked until they shone to ensure they still met the part expected and a crisp white shirt for chosen for underneath. It felt like in no time at all the grand debut was here where they would be under false names of Steffan and his inspiring business partner Oren. Basic perhaps but it ensured it would be easy enough for themselves to recognise one another and did not clash with any of the old money who always got over friendly with any who shared the same name which would make their jobs a lot harder than needed.

Arriving looking rather dapper if he did say so himself, Otto will not deny the sigh of relief when the ogre at the door waved them through with barely a word eager to keep the queues moving. Through the hallway that seemed designed to funnel them ahead it led to them from being out in the cold night air straight into indulgent pleasures put on someone who knew little of what it was like to ever lift a finger without a servant ready to enact their every whim. The location in question is a treat however, an exquisitely tiled floor with tall flowers of every colour collected in tall vases decorating wherever there was an inset in the wall and waiting staff in front of each closed door to ensure nobody tried to stray before the grand address occurred. The itinerary warned of this one so they like all the other comers were forced to remain linked by the arm until the signal was given that they may do as they please lest it offend their host.

Speaking of, he catches sight out the corner of his eye lording over them all from the staircase with decorated in sparkle laid over peach that trails behind with a cigarette holder deftly held between gloved fingers and hair in the preferred brunette curls. Frankly she looked tasteless even from here and he had no intention to get to know the patron of the hour any better though is polite enough not to voice it. Stricklander motions with his head and quietly guides them to the side lines where it will be easier to keep out the way of the oncoming all the while keeping tabs on things while they wait nodding politely to guests as they go. Manners and charm were always more _his_ forte, if he had no incentive to bother he simply chose not to, given the status of the people here he was even less inclined than usual to act the part.

In minutes that stretched beyond even time’s comprehension the front door is pushed closed with an ominous boom and she claps her hands together for everyone’s attention then allows chance for all eyes to fall on her before she begins to address her willing audience.

“My wonderful friends, dearest acquaintances, associates and guests may I welcome you to the night of festivities,” she begins throwing her hands wide as though to embrace all her admirers at once.

“While I know you look forward to talking amongst yourselves I have a request I would like to make for you all if you would be willing to indulge a personal whim of mine.”

Murmurs begin to break out unsure what the question will be with a jostling of elbows and none too subtle gestures being made in reaction. In a far corner, a door begins to open and people carrying cases of all shapes begin to file in as quietly as they can muster with heads kept down.

“Now now, please do calm yourselves I will ask nothing too grand for you _are_ here on my invitation and would sort of event would it be if I caused such resentment? The true reason I asked for you to come as you are is because I have decided what better bonding moment for us all than for our opening act to be a formal dance with your chosen faithful? It will be a slow waltz specifically I might add and will begin once the band is finishing setting up so I do hope you know how to move best without treading on any toes.”

A Trollish swear is very nearly hissed behind his teeth and even Stricklander in a rare moment of a façade slipping tightens his grip for it being one of exceptionally few eventualities even he hadn’t managed to consider. As if thriving on the discomfort the lady begins to grin pressing her palms together as if delighted to the clatter of chairs being produced making him hate her all the more.

“I look forward to all your efforts, after all I desire only to speak to the best of people and this is such an entertaining way to find out who those will be.”

Otto Scaarbach was not being expected to dance with Walter Strickler, ach it could only have _happened once upon a dream_.


	43. Secrets of a bookshop - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was only one person who could possibly show up for this one.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory of something paranormal

People of all walks of life came into the humble bookshop as much as they did Benoit’s meaning it had cemented it’s own little niche on the town of being open to one and all. In fact the only real difference as far as he could tell was how it took much longer to establish who the regulars were because even the fastest readers weren’t finding excuses to come multiple times in one week unless they wanted a chat. The double takes of a customer recognising him in the ‘wrong place’ as it were was always amusing but kinda nice in a way? Given the accent already made him stand out half a mile that he must have been making a good impression on anybody was heart-warming and besides it made for a good talking point if nothing else and he was always game for to stop for a few minutes if it wasn’t too busy.

 _Here_ specifically though there were a few that would come in not to buy anything but to have a sneaky cat nap on the chairs like some would in a library, on occasion purely by accident, knowing he won’t say anything bad about it mean he did do much the same and heck being somewhere safe, warm plus knowing where you wouldn’t get yelled at he couldn’t blame them at all really. They’d buy something afterwards as a thank you with neither commenting on what had happened to save any further embarrassment when they were usually already red in the face and a bit twitchy. The majority though were those seeking the next book in their series, a new author to try, getting their hands on some _actual_ historical works for the nostalgia of it all or that one changeling with a lilt that bordered on South African from out of town who was using him as a pickup point knowing no questions would be asked why their wares had to come here and nowhere else. He did like them, last time they had an order he’d been gifted some koeksisters to try fresh from the freezer for being such a help in ensuring a gift didn’t get intercepted by the giftee and he was looking forward to finding out the result and saying how badly he needed the recipe for the thing.

Then there was a certain _high schooler_ who came in two days out of five with a backpack ready to be filled with that day’s finds and pocket money jangling in his pocket that never seemed to run out for anything he’d chosen to keep. Kids coming in were a bit more unusual as hey they tended to go for the second-hand places for their clothes rather than trying their luck with books so it was understandable but he was a special case. See, every so often you get a conspiracy theorist that is like gold dust in sand managing to stand out amongst the crowds of those reaching for wisps while only coming up empty, those that are _alarmingly_ close to things they shouldn’t be and he was one of them. There too should have been some sort of irony there given the particular nature of the shop and the sheer amount of magical contents sitting in plain sight that more than once he came scarily close to taking off a shelf without ever cottoning on that anything resident was really all that untoward.

As it was the usual fare of late tended to a strange fixation on stone-skinned people that sounded _suspiciously_ like very real trolls instead of the fairy tale variety, collaborating evidence from various sources including notes he’d written down presumably from online to find a common denominator while abusing the fact that he tended to stock a mixture of genres and a range of older to more modern text. As things go it was one of the more harmless pursuits he could be undertaking so Douxie simply kept tabs on his reading material, gave Zoe updates how it was all going when he needed someone else to join in the sheer weirdness of the situation and generally left it well alone feeling it wiser not to discourage it lest it just set him off with renewed vigour and really _did_ put somebody in trouble.

Something changed between when he was in town and after ADP was needed for front lining for Papa Skull though and he cannot put a finger on what exactly the culprit was. It was like he suddenly had to become even more secretive about his efforts as though fearing somebody would catch him in the act? It still looked pretty innocent though even if the amount of books needing to be put away afterwards because he had to dash out the door again before he broke curfew was starting to get a tiny bit irritating but he’d survive.

One day a few weeks later and out the blue while listening to music blasting a bit too loud through headphones sitting around his neck the one he’d since come to know was called Eli Pepperjack (Like the cheese! He’d said) approached the counter a little nervously but determined. Raising a finger to ask for a second the music is paused and he leans forward onto the glass with a quirked brow wondering what today’s thing was going to be, he’d been getting much comfortable about talking outside of purchases which was nice.

“Um, could I ask you something please? You didn’t seem too busy and I thought, I mean, if it’s _okay_.”

“Not a problem mate, there something up?”

A deep breath is taken for fortitude then with a look of determination he dives straight into whatever had been bubbling away in that head of his gesturing wildly with one hand and keeping the other just out of sight. Douxie barely gets a chance to blink.

“Well it’s just you’ve been really helping me out so much these past few months and I think it’s finally time to pay it forward!” Eli says with all the joys of somebody who is so relieved to finally be able to tell someone. His phone is held up for the wizard to see and it shows what looked like a homemade conspiracy board zoomed in specifically to show a section he’d built up about trolls covered in random doodles, a couple newspaper clippings, an alarming amount of mentions of the school and a map that had a pin sitting round about where the Trollmarket would be - _Oh_ and there is a sketch peeking out from the helpfully labelled TROLLS that could well be an artistic impression of one, fuzzbuckets. Letting out a hummed noise he looks back to him cocking his head to one side feigning innocence somewhat thankful Archie is keeping a low profile on the upper shelves right now.

“Wow you really _have_ been busy, this what you’ve been up to the entire time?”

“Yep I’ve been studying the creepers of Arcadia! Ever since I saw something in the canals it’s been an itch that needed somebody to go out there and find out the truth so because I already had a head start I figured it may as well be me! I still don’t know if they’re good guys or bad guys or not which is why I want to keep this a secret between us just in case…” He pauses, his previous enthusiasm wilting a little before asking the most vital question of all.

“You _can_ do that, right?”

With a smile hiding the wonder of quite where the irony is going to stop a fist is held out for the teen and it’s bumped back with delight of a contract sealed.

“For something as important as this? _Consider it done_.”


	44. Tradition - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of my adopted Gumm-Gumm General Gnasha though this time looking back at tradition aka me shoveling my personal thoughts of trolls in there or at least ones entrenched in the old ways which they are. Soft reminder they go by they/them pronouns!
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory of their mother

Traditions are something that are passed from elder to whelp across generation and tribe as something to root them in the very same soil that birthed their ancestors even if they may be nomadic or forced to disperse by circumstance. Your heritage is important, she used to say, it is not something to be waved lightly lest it be forgotten and denied to those who may follow you after. They always listened entranced whenever she spoke of them, committing all these little scraps to memory while wondering if she too had once sat in the mane of another while listening to the stories that stretched from the beginning to the now or had been more restless and wanted to play instead like some of the others? It was hard to think of her ever the size they are.

To them specifically however even from a tender age if you wanted such blessings as knowing the omens and the signs to watch for you had to _earn_ them. They were not about to risk that thus they listened intently not wishing to interrupt if absently nibble on a strand or six though she did not seem to mind enough to force them to move. She gestures above allowing dirt to fall away from her fingers while speaking.

“The swin you see against the blanket of klokarp above us, my child, they are the spirits of our fallen warriors from across time it’s self who judge all those who have come into this life since their earthly ones. The brightest of those are of our greatest while the cowardly or those who fell to otzum’s waiting hands without honour are not given such grace in fact they are little more than dust thrown to the winds. Those who somehow crawl their way to the heavens still try desperately to prove their worth despite such an opportunity for it has long since past. Morka knows _all_ beyond even the eyes of trolls, he cannot be deceived so easily by their actions.”

“Even when the Ram runs across the sky?”

This gets a hummed sound of consideration if one which is also amused by the question.

“Always, they do not suffer in the cursed humsween like we do, not since they ripped away and flayed any remaining flesh that could burn or crack to spite Gronka and their creations. They refused to bow their head no matter what clever trap or rule they put into play for they were equal in nearly all things.”

The whelp that would one day choose the name Gnasha cocks their head to one side with thought. It did make sense to them but it brought another question to mind.

“Could _we_ do that?”

“No, we are the children who labour under Klokaran’s gaze and it would be an insult to shed what we were given so kindly. The other gifts the first was given and shared to all that came after make us perfectly suited to exist both under them and where we may be seen most by our own greatest. Know well this the same reason why those who throw themselves under the Ram’s hooves or even consider such an idea are the actions of the **shameful**. Staining is a mark of pride for surviving against the odds much like scars and chips in your flesh, to give yourself over wholly however? They deserve to have their corpses trampled to the dust they will become.”

They whine a little at that, shaking their head of the images showing themselves as a tiny statue and crumbling away disappointing everyone. They could never do that, they had to be big and strong one day and help protect others! They didn’t want to be a lore-keeper too, they had far bigger ideas.

“I would never do that; I want to live with honour and be looked up to like you!”

Their reply is one oddly quiet at first, the sound of the ground being scraped with claws to form a particular shape until they form the word _fear_ in perfect Trollish before a line is run through it.

“A noble goal you have if some way off yet. I want you to remember that fear is a good thing not a vice, the weak-willed let it control them and their but the strong? They harness it as any tool preventing arrogance. Fear being a disappointment to keep yourself humble but trample it in rebellion if it should ever attempt to overreach it’s stead.”

They would to the bitter end it turned out, even the mighty Otzum could not hold onto them until their final task would be completed. All traitors must be purged.


	45. Early days (Heart of Glass AU) - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt I was specifically requested to write in A Heart of Glass verse and I wanted to go for a bit that might not otherwise come up so it's a little fluffy. If you're at all interested in the AU you can find [the fic here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894010/chapters/68303761)! Essentially things went very differently leading to Douxie forcibly leaving Camelot and ended up in the care of The Arcane Order at 19 as a very traumatised bean who is doing his best despite everything. At the time of writing this I'm working on chapter 2 that takes place before the below does.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A childhood memory

There were still good days and bad days even after what felt like months had passed since… _It_ happened and he ended up in a third home nothing like any of the others. Sometimes he could talk fine meaning the worst problems tended to be caused by his accent or slang he’d picked up that would then need explaining but on other days the frequent nightmares or panic attacks he was still suffering would rob his ability for speech and he’d be stuck with making gestures or rely on Archie to translate while generally hoping for the best. Then there was also a third possible option of these, one where his voice would just give up at random without any warning. Now _those_ ones he particularly hated for the frustrating embarrassment alone as it loved to be when he was mid-sentence or trying to have a proper conversation. They never pushed him about it which he did appreciate, in fact all of them acted like it was the most normal thing in the world to happen and adapted to whatever condition he was in while being incredibly understanding of the frustration he felt or if he needed a minute before they resumed with whatever was going on at the time. If anything similar happened before he was often expected to do all the leg work so it was nice and helped him feel like he actually mattered as a person.

This was more important than ever given how badly his confidence had taken a hit.

Now Douxie might be nineteen so he was hardly a _child_ in people terms but that was barely anything in their eyes which could explain why they acted how they did or at least a little bit? Because while they _had_ promised Morgana to keep the two of them safe from harm it still felt like they were constantly going above and beyond what they really had to and while it was tempting to ask but it didn’t seem right to, not when he hardly was the only one suffering from recent losses both physical and otherwise. So he tended to tiptoe around certain things but never avoided them completely simply from not knowing any better and wanting to be useful. He just… Didn’t like the idea of being a burden to any of them and it’s why even while mute he would do little things to help out be it sorting books, helping track down ingredients misplaced in the past century for lack of need or sneaking a blanket to Bellroc while working without being asked or even hinted at. Scarred, battered and bruised as he was he was still himself through and through with a heart too kind for the world it found it’s self in.

The Order did their best though despite the amount of problems his simply being there caused. One that came up was when Skrael in not understanding the concept of human food while also on the rare occasion of not running anything by Nari first led to offering a pile of natural things stuffed in a woven basket gotten from who knows where. This was fine on the face of it except unfortunately they were all of the distinctly _poisonous_ variety whichwas a rather awkward conversation to deal with afterwards. The compromise they managed to make was to get them to Nari so she could do as she wished ensuring they wouldn’t go to waste and the resulting relief of not having to find out what would happen if he ate one anyway. This particular subject had been a somewhat constant minefield and the temptation to just try and do something about it himself would be far greater if not for being too fragile to risk it and the concept of outside being too raw to contemplate. Maybe soon but not just yet.

On another occasion a tunic appeared on the blanket nest he had to sleep or generally crash out on and he didn’t really have any idea who the culprit was seeing as it wasn’t there one moment then it was. While it lacked the all essential hood which was an admitted favourite and was _blatantly_ oversized being for an adult he figured if he managed to scrounge some thread from somewhere he might be able to do a hash job taking it in a bit? Having a few more clothing options would be nice given he wasn’t shy about burning all traces of Camelot (Bar the pouches mind) that he originally wore the very second he was able to purge the last bits of holdover the place had on him. The success of this experiment led to other things appearing at random in the same spot that he often ended up waking up to which also included a solitary sock making the entire thing feel like a cat was leaving gifts except the closest thing to _being_ a cat in the entire fortress was completely innocent. He never would figure out who was behind it or if it was in fact all three.

One of the most prized possessions he would be given is a blank journal that is naturally woven in a way only Nari would know how to do and came with the means to write as well. When he took it into his hands he was given the promise that no one could look inside without his express permission presumably to respect his boundaries. While the latter part didn’t _need_ to be said he appreciated the reassurance anyway of being able to decide for himself whether or not he felt comfortable to do so. It was probably for the best too, trying to practice writing with his right hand proved a complete disaster as all can be when it’s their first time trying while his replacement left, well, holding something that was thin in a way that could be manipulated easily he was struggled with greatly because of the sensation of something there is much more muffled compared to skin. He keeps trying though, page after page not flipping to the next until there wasn’t a space left determined that by the end of the journal he would write his name in full and that it would be legible.

He wanted to show them what he’d achieved and that it was only thanks to their help, their choice to let him stay. While it'd be something small it would be something he made with his own hand and seemed a better thank you than anything else he could muster in it’s place.


	46. Everything comes back to bite you - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the second time Nomura has someone die in one of hers because Bular decided he was in the prompt now and I had to just roll with it.
> 
> Warning for a random changeling getting munched.
> 
>  **Prompt:** An eye opening memory

When the time finally comes for your mentor to induct you into the Janus Order officially, you are taught the three essential rules that form the backbone of any changeling gifted the luxury of wandering on the surface world. They are as follows:

1\. There is honour among thieves

2\. Rule 1 is a lie, there is no such thing as honour

3\. Everything and everyone is a tool to get what you want

The expectation is you will **understand** these words without question and adapt to yourself in whatever manner you see fit whilst following every order and knowing better than to contradict the overall goal of their kind’s pursuit of a promised utopia. In a sense this was a form freedom quite unlike anything they had experienced before even if was still choked by a long leash and a threat of a knife in the back or even worse should the line not be towed correctly. Eyes and ears were everywhere waiting for you to make even a single mistake.

Very quickly you discovered that your siblings were as dangerous as your superiors if you crossed them in even a minor way seeing as all are so desperate to keep themselves from being in the wrong spotlight where all vulnerability would be exposed and also being ever mindful of the lone troll left standing by the time Nomura joined the ranks. In regards to him, hm while she did not particularly like him it was an obvious fact that _nobody did_ , there was not a single member who had not heard of the threats where he was involved or the rumours of what happened to anyone who fell foul of his bad moods by doing nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The wiser option was to simply keep your head down if he was in the area while always hoping on the Pale Lady’s grace that you would not be given the ‘honour’ of being his handler or the what many referred to as _the meeting_ \- One was a punishment that rarely ended well while the other? That was a fancy way of saying a straight up execution.

The first time she heard the word she took it in complete innocence noting it was often mentioned in whispers and figured if it was important she would find out soon enough, it was another branch anyway so what did it matter? She simply dropped off what she brought and left soon after not willing to indulge in any of the gossip because the best blackmail came from eavesdropping in a way the targets did not even realise you were there not making anything you start traceable. A few didn’t appreciate her almost casual attitude of blowing them off but equally they found it hard to get anything usable on her to retaliate with.

The second time however such ignorance would no longer hold when all available changelings were summoned with only those doing the most critical work or with enough status able to decline and avoid whatever it was if they so wished. Few of those not in leadership positions dared though lest it give the wrong impression and thus were swept along with the rest of them to see who the sacrificial lamb of the hour was all the while everyone chatted away like it was a such joyous occasion to try to hide their nerves. It’s hard to pretend everything is fine in front of a group of liars, they _all_ knew the truth.

The room was a spacious thing painted the off colour of eggshells with seated allocated in the form of flimsy folding chairs organised in such a way that they surrounded layer by layer overlooking what could only be described as a literal _pit_. The ground looked like churned earth recently raked over to stop it compacting with the high walls covered in scratch marks of all sizes between patches that had a hasty fix from a possible hole or worse having been made in it giving an air of a Roman Colosseum but designed in miniature. Looking at it with a judgement eye it would be such an easy space for there to be an ‘accident’ where someone simply fell and with the height being too great except for those with wings the only possible way out would be the solitary door that given the size of it did not bode well for the victims, both the intended and not. As the numbers begin to swell both in troll form and human Nomura takes her place shifting forms in case anybody get funny ideas about going after her absently wondering if all the signs were pointing the direction she suspects.

When footsteps begin to echo from below a hushed silence arrives in it’s wake with not one daring to be the one who interrupts when the door slides open in a series of groaning creaks. All eyes from glowing to non fall in unison on the entrance choked in darkness and behold as the Dark Prince slowly comes into view standing on feet and dragging the desperately sobbing chosen closely behind by the foot. They had long given up on the idea of escape but did not seem eager to meet their approaching demise either and no one witness could miss them when they are brought to the centre of the arena.

“It seems you impures need a _reminder_ of your status in this life,” rumbles a voice that could only have one possible master and edged with vivid annoyance. The one wearing a lurid orange stone-flesh with limbs too gangly to fit squawks when they are drawn up into the air and made to dangle like freshly hung meat upon a butcher’s hook. The crying and soft pleading for mercy quickly becomes deafening in the pause. No one dares to move much less breathe a word.

“Your existence is entirely to serve. If you are of no use to my _father_ then you are no further use to _me_ and there is only one way to deal with cowardly rats who attempt to put themselves over their Opradush. This one could not hope to even draw arms without snivelling, such a fitting meal to made example of so you may all behold what fate you tempt with such ideas.”

They are held even higher, violet eyes widening in fear when a mighty jaw begins to open wide revealing just how large fangs are making them plead even more in stuttered cries seeing the same end coming that they all do. Some of the crowds begin to jeer goading Bular on, a few others whisper prayers that will swift and may she take pity on them in the next life, there is even laughter but Nomura in comparison refuses to tear her gaze away as they lower bit by bit towards his maw.

There is one final whimper before a stone shattering **_crunch_**.


	47. Treasured memories - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small references to another of the [drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26970400/chapters/70653219#workskin) I've done in this mad binge? More likely than you think.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A fading memory

Memories are not _meant_ to be held onto for forever for even the those claimed by a heart most dear begin to crack and fade akin to old photographs becoming blurrier sepia smudges as indistinct from any other despite any and all attempts to prevent as such. You may bolster them to stave the decay off that bit longer however, using little reminders of what has been to help keep them _alive_ far beyond the moments that originally bore them. Everyone did it for a variety of reasons, there’s an entire industry focused around mementos for that very reason after all both the tacky and legitimate.

In his case perhaps he _was_ a little overly sentimental about these things centuries on compared to most but it simply couldn’t be helped, there was just so much that happened that he never wanted to forget and being around longer simply meant there were far more of them to pick from. They ranged from the littlest moments like the first-time trying his beloved twizzlers after Zoe had suggested it, stories that were told in only conversation over a few drinks he was probably not meant to have but got into the spirit of things anyway, places history would later consume without a trace left as borders that formed countries shifted this way and that, all the **people** who he had loved dearly… It didn’t feel right to let these things fade into nothingness after they’d meant so much.

Within a small box squirreled at the back of the wardrobe with a simple lock circled twice by a ward there is the small stash of letters. These range all the way back to a lost love in the country firmly known as Nahan which are written in a neat Giripari script wrapped in a ribbon of silk, others that came from ‘friends’ that may well have shared the same word whereas others were far more innocent of any of the romances tangled in his youth. They are written in so many different languages covered in the faint traces of age, fingerprints and small tears at the edges where they had been read over and over under anything from candlelight to something more modern and each one was precious in their own way. None of these had ever been carried by a raven though, too much risk if they were ever discovered but at least for the most part those particular correspondence the other party was _still around_ to ask… There are piles of journals too, all carefully written in code through paranoia with the oldest of them barely able to hold onto their pages without threatening to spill their contents everywhere if even looked at funny. These ones are very different than any research done on the arcane, indeed these are more of a scatterings of things he did not want lose which trace a journey through towns, countries and across entire continents. The more recent ones also contain candid photographs harkening back to the days before mobiles and cloud services.

Douxie is sitting with one of the journals having a careful gander as he does. This one dates from the 16th century according to the notes he set before beginning any entries, back when kingdoms or empires ruled strong, boats had cemented themselves as a permanent fixture and discoveries poured in scarcely known by a humble traveller until presented themselves first-hand. The pair had found themselves in what would be dubbed the Ottoman Empire whilst following the coastline ending up in Izmir it might have been or fairly nearby? There were a lot of voices coming from the seas and inland being spoken it was nice not standing out so much for a change and he’d mentioned it at the time too from the looks of it. He does vaguely remember a man that stood a bit shorter than he does who took nonsense from nobody and humour even less but any attempts for more than a few words of description completely escape. Did he have green eyes or were they blue, he wonders? Was his hair barely growing off his head or halfway down his back? Did he imagine a necklace of an iron anchor or was that yet another face in the crowd of thousands who did? It’s a hateful blur riddled with guilt with no one to blame.

With a drawn-out sigh he flops back onto the bed allowing it drop into his lap pressing an arm over his own eyes not wanting to be blinded by the ridiculous fluorescent that flickered if you looked at it too much. Cheap motels for you, they just loved screaming tacky or badly maintained.

“Hey Arch, do you remember Kadri at all?” From the scoffed sound from the pillows the answer would be a firm yes, he must have noticed which one he was reading from and put two and two together who he meant. Or they didn’t know many Kadri’s that stood out, either way.

“Why pray tell are you thinking at all about _that_ braggart?”

“Hey be nice, his baklava as amazing! You know he had to put a big show on for people so nobody would question it, still surprised he told me the actual reason he even knew how to make it mean can understand being worried I’d take it the wrong way.”

“True enough I suppose and he _was_ kind enough to give you the recipe with the hazelnuts I believe it was? Perhaps you should try it again sometime assuming you can locate what it needed.”

“Eeeeh should be fine, think nowadays other places have been copying. Might be a nice little tribute, _a guest being a cherished member of the family_ and all that. Certainly treated us like that according to what I’ve got written here.”

As they ease into chatter about their favourite foods they can recall trying while at the port the unspoken words are there too, they both know of how much he just doesn’t want to forget this one man who decided to take pity on a worn out stranger and his odd cat for a little bit longer before it all goes away completely. The kind ones who carried their own secrets deserved it.


	48. Changelings are like cats - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I rarely see content of Nomura and Otto interacting so she decided to raid one of his drabbles to make up for it.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory of their sibling(s)

It was not often that Otto happened to be at the North American branch of the Order for any extended period beyond a handful of days at best. This was partly through simply being busy with his attentions being required elsewhere but equally in that it would be utterly pointless denying the tight ship that Stricklander ran with both it and the all-important Killahead project that micro-watching was simply unnecessary. Occasionally however some time could be spared to be more than a mere fleeting appearance and gave an opportunity to check over things that had been building up in the office he had secured well out the way that could double as a personal pick up service. A couple of those things were indulgent to save on the perils of international shipping there was no denying it, others were paperwork that had to stay in the country preferably and the other thing? Well today _that was Nomura_.

His fellow changeling ignores his entrance completely from her perch on the edge of the desk moving a testing finger over the wood to admire the dust that came up with it with a look of pure disgust. It is clear it is not the only thing she had been poking around at in her boredom, some of the packages were lightly torn at the edges too tellable even from here. Sigh barely in the room for more than a minute and yet already he is left pinching the bridge of his nose above the glasses.

“Seeking a change from thieving Stricklander’s wine collection I see,” he says with a far brighter tone than the scathing look she is given while passing. Annoyingly she also appears to be correct in her assessment on the lack of cleanliness and is forced to wipe the chair down before even risk being seated though is polite enough not to smirk about it.

“Is this how the supposed important leaders of the noble and just Janus Order greet the mere underlings now?” It is asked ever so innocently like she hadn’t been shamelessly raiding the drawers for anything of interest mere minutes before his arrival and perhaps it was bad memory but he could have sworn there was a bottle in in one of them that was now distinctly absent.

“You need a better lock on that door by the way, far too easy for the wrong people to open.”

“Ah yes, I cannot imagine _why_ that might be despite only a select few know I use this particular space instead of the one with the nameplate. I also do not recall your name being one of them, Nomura.” One of the more battered packages is slid away from her reach to open it himself getting a disappointed tut back and a rap of nails on the wood.

“Curiosity is just such an amazing motivator you know, as is wanting some peace from the egos if I’m expected to be here. As much as I keep s _omebody’s_ in check I can hardly for all here singlehandedly can I? The best I can muster is teaching the art of not touching me if hands want to be kept on their persons.”

“And yet you so gleefully manhandle everyone else’s things,” is darkly muttered. Ah, a pair of journals from the recently and dearly _departed_ Mysian excellent. Any material they had on him can be removed before the archives gets hold of them for their own records.

“If such things are left unattended, what am I supposed to think?” She is levelled a _look_ for that refusing the let his gaze waver for an instant and one which she returns in an expression of mock surprise as if she had merely wandered into the situation by mere accident in return.

“ _You_ my dear are quite frankly the most sadistic cat like creature I have ever met in my centuries on the Surface.” Unsurprisingly it is that which finally makes her grin break out entirely in Cheshire.

“Oh we are in a good mood if you’re lavishing the charm~”

Her position is a very safe one and unfortunately she well knows this, gleefully abusing all the opportunities it provides to tease and scratch any one she decides is a favourite to annoy. The two books are carefully slid into one of the drawers and he then moves onto opening one of the cardboard envelopes left for his attention. Stricklander at least was more understandable being her mentor during the younger years but himself? Ach it was usually to mock, pry information or she had something she thought might be of interest that she was keeping firmly to herself ready for eventual barter. The question was, which was it on _this_ occasion?

“Unless something chooses to sour it then perhaps I could agree with your assessment,” he answers whilst flicking through the submitted papers that had recorded the movements of Bular over the past few months so he could have his own copy. While not his specific area it was always wise to be aware of what the Dark Prince had been up to beyond sightings and could give key information for how to gently nudge things should it ever come up. His personal views might not be for preparing for every single possible outcome but it equally did not mean there were a few things he kept tabs on to be on the safe side or to repurpose to a greater end.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure exactly? Cannot imagine this little break in of yours was accidental or wanting to try your luck with the door.”

That causes Nomura to sigh loudly as though being asked was somehow a great inconvenience to her day before checking over her nails in an excuse not to look his direction gaining a judgement quirk of brow. It was hard to tell if the stalling was for dramatic purpose or not.

“Is it _that_ obvious?” She snarks back folding her arms raising a pointed nail with each item she lists off.

“The big idiot is licking his wounds meaning he’ll be off our backs for a while, you’re covering while he’s out the country on another of those stupid educational seminars for extra funding they’ll never get then to top it off? My schedule is entirely clear aside from human work and I truly am bored enough so I sought out someone else to drink with who has some standards I can tolerate.”

When a bottle is suddenly placed in front of him still surrounded by torn packaging it is in that moment he realises that she really had stolen from his gin stash. On the flipside, it was one of the good ones and he knew just the glasses to use.


	49. Safety in ignorance - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hints of a plot in MY writing? It's more likely than you think, nothing Merlin does is ever by accident after all.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory of their father

The first few months behind the looming walls surrounding the castle’s innerworkings were proving stressful to say the least. Everything was so different to what Douxie had grown used to from the clothes he was expected to wear, the strict rules he was expected to follow and court manners which he was having additional instruction on multiple times a week on to ensure he could only ever give the best impression. When asked why this was so important the answer he received was a simple one, it is better to put your best foot forward than start on the back and have to work even harder to reach the same place. Prodding for clarification because that didn’t make much sense, after a small sigh he was informed that should anyone regardless of status discover his origins after he had already proved himself with a willingness to adapt it should not hurt his personal standing with them. Politics of the Court are like an ever evolving yet constant game of chess and by doing some of the leg work himself it would improve how people would interact with him more than relying entirely on his title of apprentice to carry him through.

To the 12 year old it still sounded a bit silly but if it would help make life easier in the long run and given who said it, he didn’t see any reason to argue though he could not wait for those lessons to finally be over lest his head simply fall off from the amount of information he was being expected to memorise just to blend in.

Now for him the biggest novelty of being in Camelot as a citizen (?) was never having to worry about food after a lifetime of it being a constant worry and in how the kitchen staff sometimes snuck him a little bit extra for his plate or pouch and fussed as if he was one of their own. He always did try to be polite if he saw any of them, maybe that had something to do with it? Then he’d managed to try so many brand-new things already too! Lumbolls were possibly one of his favourites, those and the ryschewys though in both cases they are a bit on the special side in not being made often but whenever he got his hands on either after splitting them in half to share with Archie just like they used to while savouring each and every bite down to the last tiny pastry fleck.

His day to day duties when not indulging his ever growing sweet tooth weren’t quite what he had been expecting but he took to them with great enthusiasm anyway with an underlining fear of seeming ungrateful at the unique chance he’d been given accompanied if he did otherwise. These were often in the form of cleaning with a broom or scrubbing with a brush where directed, fetching enchantment ingredients required from the stores or occasionally elsewhere, sorting the books on shelves to finding one that might be needed and more often than not simply carrying things or acting as an extra pair of hands when the wizard needed. He didn’t mind particularly, it felt like he was being useful with the knowledge that if anybody asked he could truthfully respond that he was an errand helping the nerves. Sure they might have used the odd opportunity to do some exploring where they probably shouldn’t have been but knowing the terrain was important as was a quick escape route when knights are wandering around. Being a bit late from going the long way was a much better option than running into any of them, if the life before now had proved anything it was that being cautious was wise, the ones who disappeared were usually the ones that relied purely on luck and didn’t have at least three places to bolt for if things started to turn…

He wasn’t about to let his fear of where a mistake could lead him hold him back from doing anything but he wasn’t exactly about to ignore it completely either. Week by week his mental map was growing and most simply assumed he was getting better at navigating the halls which was true in a sense at least.

The other important note was how use of any form of magic was not permitted unless under the strict supervision of his regular lessons which included the cuff being held in Master Merlin’s workshop as a precaution both as much for himself and any who might realise it was more than for mere decoration. He was also told that if he stuck to this very important rule while being careful about how much he said beyond the closed door he would be allowed to keep his familiar with him if with an additional request that he posed as a cat. In both cases neither would be forever, it was simply important to keep up appearances and thus help ensure their safety in turn. Both figured the room they had been given Archie would be allowed to stretch his wings but they were always careful just in case someone might barge in and hoped might even be allowed to while being tutored as well soon. They were allowed to talk as long as there was no risk of being overheard mind, it was such an ingrained habit at this point neither could figure out why it needed to be brought up in the first place.

Today though was one of those that felt like the work was never done thanks to a chore list longer than a horse’s leg designed to keep him out of everyone’s hair while a big meeting was going on about things he didn’t have the privilege to hear even a hint of. Presently that left him on his hands and knees scrubbing away at the floor that had suffered more than it’s fair share of feet tracking through and was starting to become unsightly as a result with a cat, sans glasses just in case, pointing out any spot he missed while enjoying his own opportunity of being leisurely in the quiet afternoon sun. While he works it is the man who had been so curt in the morn who is currently occupying his thoughts, the same who felt like a as enigmatic now as he was the day they had first met.

"Hey Archie, is this what having a father is like?" Douxie asks suddenly out the blue whilst sounding a mite unsure, his previously focused expression turning into a frown that stares down at the brush he is holding.

"Or parent even, I don't really have any point of reference."

“Hmm? Ah, you are referring to the Master Wizard I presume.” He gets a nod in return and is given rapt attention by his charge.

“Certainly strict as one I would say and he does at least appear to have your interests at heart even if his methodology I cannot say I always agree with.”

“How so?”

“While there are times where your exact pronunciation matters such as spellwork for instance needing to be very precise and yours can lapse at times, he seems to act like any of the descriptions of usage is somehow beyond your reading comprehension unless a single sentence is stretched out by the syllable then repeated over and over until we’re all positively bored of hearing it. Quite a contrast given he still expects you to transcribe extracts to improve your handwriting ability,” comes an answer with a tail twitch.

“You will struggle to say some words in the expected manner which is more than fair but that does not mean you are unable to read anything put in front of you when it is the common language you are already used to.”

“Oh.” Douxie’s brow knits together in thought as it did make sense but there had to be a reason, never he did was without one, he’d come to realise that already.

“Unless it is something I should not be seeing yet?”

“Perhaps, it is not the impression he is giving me however. I do wonder however if he’s stalling deliberately? We are being kept in the dark there might be something else going on we are yet to be aware of.”

“Well he is the Master Wizard that must mean you have a few secrets and I am sure we will find out eventually!” He says taking a moment to give his arms a good stretch, a firm shake then goes back to scrubbing humming away a little as he does.

“It has only been a few months so far, maybe being mysterious is his big thing and it is all a test.”

“Indeed, we just might yet.”

It was late eve by the time he was finally finished with everything which had culminated in locating an older tome documenting the usage of tools from his sneaky glance at the first few pages though he darted away at the first sign of footsteps coming. Merlin had returning bringing a distinct lack of tension in his shoulders compared to what had been there for what felt like weeks causing the pair to look at one another confused not daring to say a word. The meeting is not mentioned nor is any question directed in regards to what had been accomplished either which was very unusual when he seemed to be keeping tabs on what sorts of things they had been up to when not under his feet. After checking that what he had asked was not sitting on the bench with a satisfied sound that could almost be taken as relieve, his cloak sweeps round as he takes the few steps to place a hand on the young boy’s head with a smile akin to the one he had once given at the gates causing him to blink a little bewildered.

“Well my boy, it would appear your patience has paid off. From tomorrow how do you feel in regards to learning some real magic?”

Douxie’s grin could not have been any wider if it tried.


	50. The hunt - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Gnasha but as a wee bean once more, was surprised I got a couple of those honestly. I also remind that they go by they/them pronouns.
> 
> Warning for a bunny that gets munched here.
> 
>  **Prompt** : A childhood memory

The word hunt is something very intrinsic in troll culture coming in a variety of guises that would not be all that obvious to outsiders who see the species as little more than one continual mind in a variety of colours and shapes incapable of anything other thought than a lust for battle. For some clans the word might mean a first kill achieved as a whelpling who would later go onto bigger tastier things whereas others who shun the idea of consuming soft flesh of another it might be a successful gathering of feisty ingredients to be brewed for medicinal reasons. Such things are not necessarily exclusive to a whole group even then, within the same family individuals who choose one or the other may occur and it is why the youngest ones are taught not to judge until they learn the reasoning behind it.

In Gnasha’s case, well even back when they were when barely able to stand on two feet their take was anything and everything was a potential snack worth hunting for regardless of the origin. The tubers they had been presented of late however were to be eaten with utter child-like grudging akin to a human with the brussel sprout because meat was far better; it makes you big and strong, the Opradush says so! With this in mind they became determined to have some thank you very much and after finding nothing they could get their little claws into in the stores they set off on their current quest out under the glowing gaze of klokaren above. They were being allowed to wander more and more anyway so their mumu shouldn’t worry overly so plus they had no plans to go too far away when their tracking skills were still prone to going in circles. The lessons taught had instilling confidence without ego and a want to be safe.

The terrain was little more than scrub grass with barely a scraggle of trees breaking up the horizon or closer to them making for hiding even a troll of their size near impossible but while the prey had the advantage of an unobstructed view it too meant it would be easier for them to see a target as well causing excitement to well. Filled with potential possibilities ahead the little snort of determination causes them to tromp onwards whilst listening to the gentle bramla for whispers, trying to keep quiet as possible lest they be overheard and everything becoming spoiled.

The distractions in the meanwhile were plentiful for the youth what with burrows to investigate until it narrowed beyond the point even they could wiggle through, a rock that was taller than they are which is completely unacceptable and had to be punished with a series of scratches then a headbutt for good measure then there were the shrubby things that had to be tentatively chewed on in case it had potential but to their great disappointment it was more bark than flavour. Blech. It was probably for a poultice they always tasted terrible without the right mystery things added. For however long this time lasted there was not a sign of life beyond insects and their limited amount of patience was already beginning to run dry.

That is until they hear a faint snuffle and the gentlest pattering of paws catches the very edge of their hearing and immediately they duck down to make hide their silhouette while squinting to try and make out what the little thing was. While it hopped (?) on oblivious ears stood up so that meant it was a hearing thing but it looked to be made entirely of fluff, wide eyed and a twitchy nose while being far too round. They knew about hares but it looked to the wrong shape to be one of those but it did look appetising though so they try crawling a bit closer to stalk slowly but sure unsure how best to tackle this hop beast. Every time it seemed to know something was there from the way an ear would swivel they went still but it would move and munch as though it had not noticed a thing too. It must not be able to see so well, they think, an unblessed thing but perfect for them to practice on.

Strangely it continued to act like it wasn’t being stared down hungrily enough that they even risk a wave of a paw in plain sight for nothing to happen, it seemed too alert to be young yet it had the reactions of something fresh which was baffling to the troll who could not understand such a thing being possible. With a burst of self-assurance their stub of a tail twitches once, twice before they launch and it is only then it realised the oncoming reaper from the startled shriek it gives. Half turned and ready to bound the other way the hard impact of being hit by living stone crushes the little body into a crumbled heap meaning a final bite will not be needed but they do it anyway just in case. With it safely held they mumble a small prayer of gratitude to Govo and Otzum barely legible but knew better to be polite than remain silent and risk forgetting given the tendency for long memories.

Satisfied with their self-made mission now complete, the whelp that would one day be called Gnasha set off for home carrying the creature known as rabbit firmly in their jaws grinning all the way with sounds of enjoyment escaping through the fur. Already they were thinking how best to ask for the thigh bones so they can use them as their first hunting adornments wanting to show themselves as superior to all the others who barely strayed away from their own nests instead of seeking out their own glory.


	51. It all came crashing down (Heart of Glass AU) - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt I was specifically requested to write in A Heart of Glass verse and because of what it was I went with a what if scenario of Bad End being triggered which would really really not be a good thing and would probably break this version of Douxie. If you're at all interested in the AU you can find [the fic here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894010/chapters/68303761)! 
> 
> I as ever write Douxie as Non-Binary and while they are He/They, the pronouns were very deliberately used in this instance.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory that may or may not have happened

Looking back on it the signs were there of _something_ being wrong that couldn’t be seen being blind as they had been. Things like how Nari slowly began to close herself off haunted with sadness that they couldn’t remember seeing there before but it was evident in her eyes. She must have been hurting so much but kept putting on a brace face anyway to not make them worry and always brushing off any attempts to ask until the questions simply stopped coming. Everyone deserved privacy right? They just figured it was something that would sort it’s self out but within days of the last time they ever spoke to her she simply vanished into the night almost as though she was simply holding on that little bit longer for one of the erratic visits to come. It didn’t make the sting any less painful when word came months later when even Skrael and Bellroc began to worry over her absence. There have been more than a few sleepless nights spent wondering where she is, what she was doing, if she was simply okay that were left unanswered.

They have three reminders of the trio of beings who took him in that they always carried with them, one is etched in ink, there is the staff they love dearly even when keeping the existence of it a secret and finally the left hand which had been the first gift from Nari herself which had been carried for so many centuries of their life. This one let them be something more than useless that they would have been condemned to be otherwise making it was worth all the stares, the snide remarks and any problems it caused hundreds of times over. Now down to two, these almost felt _haunted_.

The other thing should have been a red flag right from the start but when you’re so traumatised and barely able to hold a thought together for more than a few seconds everything is taken at face value because beyond that is simply too much to bear. Archie confirmed she had been there to see them before Killahead while at the time they had been passed out with barely more than a handful of waking hours since _it_ happened. She said that the Order had promised to keep the two of them safe and that she would return after ensuring that all of them would live without being in fear ever again. She wouldn’t of course, thanks to _him_ they wouldn’t see one another again until they were living in the far-flung future of Arcadia not knowing that she was being held right beneath their feet plotting her own freedom with or without help.

Nothing comes for free; they knew that better than anyone yet never once thought to question what the price that had to be paid for such a promise to be had. It was spun to them as a means to prevent the extinction of magical beings at the behest of a mad king but it was far more than that wasn’t it? It was the ability to live without persecution being bought on the back of conquering the other to ensure it, never about restoring a balance already upset by the actions of one old man. It was so obvious and yet, _and yet_.

The blindfold was ripped away with a few simple words of clarifying truth and the anger it causes is barely contained any more than the magic desperate to lash out in retaliation against their own sister who stands there with helmet held in hands and a pleading expression in emerald eyes that he would somehow see her reasoning. A familiar dragon is perched on their shoulders glaring just as much bristled with a twitching tail and both can hear the echoes rattling about their brains repeating again and again of what led them here.

_All of this was for you, all of it to make a world where nobody would have to suffer like you did! Gunmar is merely a means to an end for that paradise to finally come forth into reality._

_At the cost of everyone else you mean, did you think for a second I'd ever want that?! Just because I suffered never meant I wanted anybody else to as well!_

_That was our deal, Douxie. If they would keep you both safe I would accept their power and become the Champion of Magic and right what my brother wrought against us, it was only a matter of time before we were all put to the sword and this was my one chance to finally make things right._

_He's long gone! Bellroc felled him at the battle didn’t you know? His era is dead and the legacy he left drove everything underground but having a bunch of trolls running around eating people isn’t exactly going to fix everything. That’s not balance that’s genocide!_

“… I’m gonna ask them myself, I want to hear the answer from them directly and if you really _do_ care about what I think you’ll help clean up this mess you gave an open invite to instead of yanno going after the actual problem who is probably waiting for _his_ grand moment,” is hissed whilst summoning their own staff to hand ready to use for a very specific spell reserved only for emergencies. What could be a bigger one than _knowing_?

“You’re older than me and I kinda liked to hope you would know better, Morgana. In case you missed the memo there’s only one person I have it out for and it sure as heck is not an entire planet full of people.”

The base is tapped and with a few whispered words a shimmering crack appears beside them that is barely visible except where the light catches the edges.

“Be better, please? Not exactly asking the world here but if I can avoid becoming jaded despite literally _everything_ that has happened to me then I can’t see why you’re so determined to swan dive into it. I wanted you back so much, I’ve been trying so damn hard for so long to have that but right now I can’t really stand to even look at you if you can think this is remotely okay.”

“Douxie, please _we can still fix this_.”

They say nothing, merely giving her a soft smile before the two of them disappear beyond her reach with all the consequences she has wrought.

~~~

It was all true, Skrael said so himself. Oh it was attempted to be played as somehow being a mercy that they’d been kept in the dark this entire time, of how despite so much time there had been to tell the truth that went by wasted, the same amount that could have been used to change their minds and work towards a better solution they had instead sought out something even worse than what she’d unleashed on the world fancying a bit of annihilation on a far larger scale instead. It made their heart hurt so much, why did everyone think for even one second they’d be okay with it? Any of it? That somehow being allowed to pick _favourites_ would somehow make it magically acceptable despite knowing people that mattered to them personally could be spared while the rest would be damned?

_They said culls about us too remember? All for the greater good, just a few sacrifices and spare the lot, send them forth and you’ll go free. You sound like **he** did._

**_He_ ** _was… cruel, and **he** used you, Hisirdoux. we kept you safe; we protected you. We didn’t force the weight of the world on your shoulders- you were a boy! A young boy! You never should have had so much pressed upon you! I was only ensuring that you wouldn’t have to feel that again! You do not deserve what happened to you. Not again. I will not take part in doing that to you, not like **he** did._

Why were _they_ the only one who wasn’t completely blind to what they were all heralding?

_And yet didn’t stop you lying to me did it? You can’t pull a greater good on me I’ve heard it all before. Different century and it’s the same garbage. I’m tired._

_Just… Let us make this right, Hisirdoux. Please. You can rest, here, Hisirdoux. You can rest, now. And in the morning, we can make it right. I can make it right._

_Just tell us what we need to do and we will do it! We can’t lose you too._

It was almost ironic that this was the one time it wasn’t _his_ fault; really it was their own if anything for believing anybody could be better than that instead of being a simple flip of the same coin. If people ended up suffering for the greater good well now that was worth it for the result because they didn’t matter, not really being little more than unnamed masses. Even Nari, _one of their own_ , was somehow seen as an acceptable bit of fallout in the name of a false balance despite knowing she would feel each and every one of those lives being wiped out… It must have hurt to look at them, an example of both why it had to be done and why it should never be, she might have even hoped their being there might convince her siblings to change, to realise the same thing too.

They would not it seem and continuing was slowly taking everyone else down with it. Douxie did tell them both that they hoped they might yet see reason, the _why_ , and realise why they never should have been contemplating it in the first place, of not wanting to leave and how unless they change, well they might never see one another again so please don’t try to follow. Nari was not the only one who could disappear after all as was the downside of having a very good teacher in how to do it properly and took the lessons to heart. It was probably only Archie’s presence that gave them the strength to walk away without looking back instead of breaking down crying right there over the bitter losses that were totting up one after the other though admittedly the final hug very nearly pushed them over the edge. It felt like the picture-perfect description of bittersweet.

~~~

After that things are barely held together by the thinnest of threads while the apartment is cleaned out. Nothing of importance was ever kept there but there were some things that needed to be held onto and were added to their most precious belongings taken from their room at the fortress before the argument began as an unfortunately correct precaution. Afterwards there was a key to be handed in with the words of it was simply time to move in, one place would have a notice and an apology for the suddenness while the other gained a sign saying closed until further notice knowing that the coven would likely pick over the best bits like vultures the second permission is given but they won’t mind particularly because at least anything dangerous will be removed. Right now all they care about is getting out of Arcadia and as far away as possible from the life they’d carved out there and all the traces _he_ had tainted it with. _He_ who had swept in taking them from their first home offering a new beginning with a home and family just to back a tyrant a few years down the line leading them to their second one just for history to repeat it’s self again and leave them in complete free fall. No lost limbs this time though, a small upside if forced to find one.

After removing the card and destroying their phone to lessen any chance of being tracked the two of them took the motorbike that was as battered and bruised as they are and rode silently through the night not caring where they would end up because anywhere else would be more than they could hope for. It’d been a while since they were last forced to rough it but they’d manage because if Douxie and Archie were anything it was survivors in a world that hated them for it and there was a lot of practice between times able to settle for any length of time. It would take three days before they felt there was enough distance to feel safe enough for risk a temporary break. The place was cheap but private having no problem with a cat companion and they were surprisingly fine about the request for a few more pillows in their room. That might have been the charm offensive and sheer exhaustion helping sell the need for it mind, was hard to tell.

Piling them up in a circle on the floor with a few blankets that had been pilfered including a few special ones that were _very_ old, they simply flop onto them and then finally, finally allow the tears come that are without any sign of being able to stop. Within a few choked breaths a purring shape manoeuvres himself into their arms only to become louder from how tightly he’s being squeezed while a face is buried into his fur. They miss how the brand-new phone bursts into life until a voice that they felt they hadn’t heard in forever comes from it.

“ _Doux_? Hey is that you? The hell are you I’ve be- There’s a pause upon catching the sound of someone trying to cry their heart out and her tone instantly becomes an awful lot more worried.

“Hey, _hey_ are you okay did something happen?”

At first there is little more than the sound of snivelling and a mumbled nonsensical apology repeated over and over. She waits patiently, trying to soothe as little as she can while trapped on the other side of the speaker not even able to see what’s going on. There’s a few hiccups and stuttered starts before she finally gets the answer and of all the things in the world she could have expected this was not one of them.

“ _I- It happened a-again… Zoe, I, I’ve lost everything. You, you are Archie a-are all I’ve got left.”_


	52. The graveyard back home - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is both a reference to a [previous drabble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26970400/chapters/65835874) in this overall collection and a conversation from back last April (!) with Strickjagger Mun. Enjoy!
> 
>  **Prompt** \- An eye opening memory

Yesterday had been surprisingly exciting in ways that didn’t involve anybody suffering bodily harm which was rather refreshing given the events of previous months, after all who could say no to kicking a door in and giving your former superior a heart attack without a single sword being drawn? _She_ certainly would not and it felt like a just reward earned after everything particularly with the shriek, oh now that is something she will be treasuring for a very long time like a party trick waiting for it’s prime moment to be brought out. With part one of her self-declared mission now completed, the next step was dragging his sorry ass back to Arcadia where he can do something more useful than moping around for weeks on end poking around Facebook for his lost lady love akin to a widow and dumped teenager rolled into one wretched mess of depression. The display was utterly revolting and truly she was doing both him and the world at large a grand favour here by intervening.

At first there were a few delays before anything could get moving partly because she decided before anything was settled on he had to go get himself scrubbed up and free of his stubbly wares while she would abuse the opportunity to enjoy the quaint scenery with a spot of tea in peace. A standard had been set after all having made sure to freshen up a bit with proper food, a shower, clean clothes and enough make up to hide the wretched state that was her condition underneath so quite frankly he should have the basic decency to do the same before setting foot outside. Of course there was a bit of enjoyment at bossing him around like this and with being unlikely to get an opportunity she would never get again, well why not? The next hold up was the particulars of transportation which needed to both balance getting there the fastest while remaining lighter on the wallet thanks to limited funds. These are narrowed down to a road trip causing dramatic groan at the idea of having to spend hours in his company while in close confines for an extended period just to make very clear her dislike at the idea. After that all that was left to do was getting hold of a suitable car that could be conveniently ditched afterwards without giving any wrong ideas to any who found it. She only got more annoyed when her suggestion of hotwiring something was shot down and ceremoniously flipped him off out of petty spite.

With supplies belatedly gathered, coffee to go, something to drive that was a disgusting aqua coloured thing and through flagrant complaining about her (Formerly) broken fetlock they came to a deal that he would take the day shifts and her the nights. There was some gleeful snarking about his habit of vehicles and cliffs which earned a look over the steering wheel and she merely grinned right back while toasting with the disposable cup. So it went on like that with loose banter fired between about innocent topics, a slightly annotated version of recent events now there was no risk of being heard, some reminiscing of older times interspersed with more than a few choice words for bad driving by other parties. The white lines are _not_ optional you idiotic fleshbags stay in your damn lane!

On day two by midday it featured a rather _bored_ Nomura which a very dangerous prospect because basic decency and social decorum tends to go out the window if she has no way to vent her frustrations and had lost interest in talking for the time. The silence becomes a rather ominous thing for the driver who has acquired a crease in his brow because if she is not resting, certain from how she keeps grumbling something, it means she must be plotting something and it is quickly confirmed when there is the unmistakable feeling of the closest pocket being rummaged in.

“ _Do you mind_?” He utters taking his eye off the road a second to glare.

“Not at all,” is the innocent answer while she sits comfortably back in her seat with her prize swiftly being broken into with a few taps because pin codes mean nothing. Getting an annoyed scoff back, he knows trying to take it back will only make it more tempting to hoard thus he is left only to secretly hope she will only stick to the photos and video collection and not find anything potentially compromising or worse, blackmail material.

For a time at least his passenger in question seems content enough to only poke around at what could fall under the first category from how the expressions vary from smirks to mildly grossed out (Not hard to guess what the cause was there) to an _aww_ and even the sound of pure mocking laughter which was something to be grateful for even if there is little doubt she is sending a few to herself to enjoy later. Sadly, all good things come to an end and always far too soon, the loud humming suggests investigations have begun for anything _else_ that could catch her wavering interest while a finger flickers this way and that. Suspicions are quickly confirmed with the following remark.

“When was the last time you bothered to clear out your damn voicemail?”

“Not recently enough apparently, if you insist on looking please don’t delete anything.”

“A tempting idea but sure, there is a disgusting amount of your _precious_ lady love in here anyway.”

“… Shut up, Nomura.”

She flashes a vicious grin his way without any shame whatsoever then proceeds to hold the phone close to that side of her face after pitching the volume a touch lower for that ironic privacy vibe while checking what tempting things that have been left ready to be found. The dates are as erratic as the time sent with the more mundane often during the day from who she presumes are his former school colleagues, one from _her_ even which comes as a surprise given it is bragging about getting a gift through customs (A sword if she recalls correctly) and a few coded ones she had little interest in deciphering. Then there was a few with the good Doctor that skirted just close enough to flirty they were stopped pretty quickly with a near shriek and another finger shown his direction for the chuckle her undue suffering caused. It was strange how the newer ones still marked with her name simply mentioning coffee? Hm, something to prod about given they’d been left for listening to over and over while being depressive.

Then there was one sitting there right at the top that hadn’t been listened to once that just screamed click me. 

“Awww did you and our _favourite_ German asshole have a little spat?”

“A falling out you could say yes, he tried to throw me to the wolves but as you can tell none of them managed to bite.”

“Shame, probably most excitement you had in ages after we were down a troll tantrum thrower. Alright let’s see what our mystery message is because you’re too chicken shit to find out yourself.”

The final message opens with the sounds of heavy breathing of somebody had been running hard but had to keep going, the bangs and clatters of metal being hit or something large being thrown around. Sometimes the faint echoes of what sounded like screaming muffled by a doorway interrupted by a familiar voice sounding utterly defeated yet comforted by the knowing a last testament will be heard.

“ _You were right, Stricklander_. Does knowing that make you happy? Ah well, it turns out we were as disposable to _him_ as we were to one another it seems no matter our plans or great feats we have overcome for a moment of glory none of it meant a thing in the end. Some of us tried to buy as much time as we could what little it was but I can’t say for sure how many managed to make it out… I won’t but I’ve chosen my grave and I think you’d like it-” There is a pause with the sound of movement, of someone yelling in their own tongue before being cut off mid-sentence by a Reaper carved of stone.

“You were truly one of the best of us, mein freund. If you never believed a single thing I’ve said in our long years together please accept that I… I don’t have very much time left. Ah listen to _me_ of all changelings being sentimental on my very own deathbed! Alas I cannot quite pull the same tricks as you being her favourite while we were the abandoned children of the night. If we truly have souls may we meet in the next life and know you still owe me a good bottle of r----”

The message cuts out into static before petering out into nothingness. Silence overcomes the car.


	53. Watching over you - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can still remember, even if you forget.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A fading memory

Tonight, their chosen bed happened to be squirreled away in a tiny gap of the stables used by the huntsman out the way enough that even the horses wouldn’t be able to kick out a leg if they were feeling restless. It was nicely sheltered from the howling winds outside that had been threatening rain for hours and that was the biggest reason he’d chosen it for them. From experience (A few years now at this point) animals were a pretty good bet among those who made their living on the streets because they were very good at warning when the sun started to rise while being placid enough to not mind a child being there nor said child abusing the water buckets to get a drink. The biggest downside however was you could only ever risk one night there, _everyone_ had heard of somebody who had been caught when they got too comfortable or trampled when an unexpected hunt was summoned and nobody wanted to be the latest example. At this hour leaving was too risky weather aside and annoyingly Douxie was on the wrong side of restless for the hour and without access to any of his caches dotted about the buildings there is nothing left to do but _think_.

It probably would surprise the ordinary folk how much time gets dedicated to simply thinking about things but it really did. You would be planning what sort of food you might get that day or where to avoid, if you need to check nobody had stolen your stuff while not looking, listening to the gossip if there was any suggestion on the weather to help you decide where best to sleep later then there were the regular plans that came in between that often involved a few more of the rag tag team as there was always safety in numbers not to mention the knowledge that could be passed on. Before falling asleep though? _Those_ tended to be a mix of anything there was no room in your head for otherwise if you wanted to stay in one piece while you were awake.

While absently running a hand through Archie’s fur there _is_ one thing that he often kept coming back to over and over and that was the _Before_. It exists just on the very fringes like a snatch of a memory being barely kept away from an oblivion masked in a startling blue that belonged to nothing yet somehow felt **important**. After it there is a fracture of what might have only been minutes filled only with confusion and tears that filling his eyes without any reason as to why before his soon to be familiar would find him between the trees. Every time he tries to think of even seconds prior to that colour clouding his vision, the same that reminds him so very much of his own magic, there is a white flash of pain in his head like a warning to not to pry too deep only getting worse the more he tries to push.

It scared him what might happen if one day he didn’t stop pushing.

Once he had asked Archie if he’d seen anything before then on the off chance it might have held any answers and his answer was odd. He said he’d seen him worn around the edges with a dirtied face with an orb of magic held within his hand that he stared at while crying and somehow knew that was where he was meant to be because it wouldn’t be right to leave somebody so young in such a state. He’s eternally grateful for it and all too aware that they could have so easily missed one another and simply never met and well where would he be then? The idea of being _alone_ was somehow scarier than not knowing why his heart still ached with something that had once been there that he could never get back. At least with the currently cat shaped dragon curled up as he is on his chest that hole didn’t feel quite as deep as it might have been otherwise now filled in with this little family of two.


	54. Polymorphs - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one went kinda weird so I just ran with whatever it wanted to do.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory that may or may not have happened

_Such a gift_! They had said once for clearly She had to have looked upon his creation and decided that one day he might have an opportunity for greatness if he continued to walk the path in Her favour. _Are you not proud of what you could become_? They would whisper while rubbing their hands with glee. The only thing that could possibly hold him back was a lack of ambition or a mind devoid of imagination to all the doors that could welcome him inside. _All you have to do is try_! They would crow for She would never select a coward that simply would never be done. _In a ballroom filled with backstabbers you could be the most dangerous one of them all_ , voices continue to taunt smooth as silk mixed with wretched laughter.

The people who surround him walk as one carrying not a single face between them nor had a name to speak yet he knew them intimately from the way their many hands would grace his skin as lovingly as a knife edge. One set takes his glasses or at least he believes it to be so while another pockets them and his confused squinting amuses while he struggles to keep following. Despite not having mouths they begin to sing in unison flitting between masculine, feminine and not, from accented and even dipping into other languages without a knowing that he will understand each and every one of them.

~ _It is just a test of your loyalty - A test of your resolve - Test to prove your worth_ ~

The differences between them begin to blur even more into smudges of colours where some gradually become taller, gain horns or a whip snap of a tail laced arm in arm with human and beast. It is a kaleidoscopic mess where nothing holds stable for more than a second presenting him with new looks over and over without ever being daubed in the same one twice.

_~So change – Change right now – Change again and again~_

They all fall into step at once placing hands on arm, knee, chin and crown pinning him into place with a sensation of grins resting on a blank canvas of possibility like hungry predators watching intently.

_You can be anybody you want to be, looking like them down to the fingernails but what do you do when all these people blend together so finely that you forget who you **were** leaving you a phantom in your own body?_

_Are you really the Otto Scaarbach of old or was that another face in the crowd of theft?_

_Is that really your skin? Your tongue? Your thoughts?_

_Did your stone flesh come in slate or moss or lavender?_

_Who would be found if stripped down to the core?_

_Would it be you or another lie?_

~ _Oh change we say_ ~

~ _Change until you can change no more_ ~

~ _Change change change_ ~

~ _Such is the changeling way_ ~


	55. The amazing tales of Barden - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to Camelot!
> 
>  **Prompt:** A childhood memory

“Are you _sure_ this is even a good idea?”

“Please have I ever steered any of our motley crew wrong?”

Currently they are half huddled in a small lumber shed shared among the people of this street which was far from ideal for a semi-serious conversation but there had been more patrols the past few months and everyone was feeling particularly skittish. Nobody had any idea what had set it off _this_ time so a few spiders were more tolerable than usual though still unappreciated. There hadn’t been any more disappearances, or at least none of their numbers, but there had been a few close calls anyway meaning Douxie at least was more reluctant than ever about taking any chances and only more so for something so stupid as what was being suggested. Thus for his comment the russet haired youth is levelled a look by both cat and human though from the blank look both of them are given it didn’t seem to register what they meant so with an annoyed sigh he answers on their behalf while helping Archie up onto his shoulder from the former spot in his lap.

“Just last week you thought spooking the hunt horses and causing a stampede was a good distraction when that patrol came out nowhere and nearly three people got trampled for their trouble trying to get them back under control. A few days ago you were trying to break into the bakery, _again_ , and fell through part of the roof. Then Rede nearly got caught when you thought throwing pebbles at the knights would be funny but they thought she _did_ it and I know she wants to kill you in your sleep,” he says giving his companion a reassurance scritch knowing he had a suggestion to throw into the ring a swell.

“Then on top of all that you nearly trapped his tail in the door too because you slammed it so hard without looking first. Do I need to go on? The list is endless because you keep adding to it.”

He is given a snort as if these were all mild inconveniences and not anything important which made the fact he could not up and leave this second worse. While he _could_ push past him and go through the door he didn’t want to risk either of them being grabbed, people weren’t very good about understanding that such things made him feel nervous and some unfortunately outright abused it.

“Oh please _Mr. high and mighty_ that’s all in the past it will be better this time I have a good feeling about it!” A glare is braved, why oh why did he agree to even hear him out? He wanted to kick his past-self so badly right now.

“Listen if _you_ want to try poking around like a thief while they clean their clothes that is on _you_ but I do not fancy inciting the wrath of housewives for a few less holes or for rifling in their kitchens for scraps. There is more than me to think about here, you’re all _you_ have to worry about you so go do it. **Alone**.”

“I need a distraction and your spooky smart cat is perfect,” he states loudly with hands on his hips glowering down abusing the fact that while Douxie was sitting this was the only time the other boy was ever taller than he is. The growth spurt seemed determined to deny him which he found particularly funny given how he liked to throw his weight around and try and boss them about despite nobody really listened, not if they had any sense anyway. Ugh he only got singled out because of having Archie which made him ‘special’ somehow.

“And that is because black cats are lucky! That’s what mama used to say and you’re the only one I know with a cat so get him to come help me.”

The glare becomes matched with a golden one and he can almost feel the bristle of fur behind his neck.

“Archie does what _he_ wants to, Barden. I cannot make him do anything and I doubt he wants people to throw things at him any more than I do.”

“Why not?”

“… Because he’s not a pet he’s my _friend_.” Oh now that did it, his face rapidly turns scarlet and he stamps his feet like he was having a tantrum waving his hands in the slightly older boy’s causing him to recoil further back against the wall.

“Fine then don’t help me, I didn’t need your stupid cat anyway! When I get a whooooole loaf I am going to eat it all to myself in front of you so you can see what you missed out on!” He snaps then storms out into the afternoon slamming the door shut behind making Douxie jump at the noise then sneeze from the dust that was thrown up. Sniffling a little and scrunching his nose up in case it is followed by a second, he then sticks his tongue out with a blech. Glancing to his familiar he catches the eyeroll that was not even remotely hidden.

“Really sorry I had to call you that, I know it _is_ a secret but even denying you are one does not make it feel any less wrong to say it at all….” A paw gently pats his face with reassurance. Always a good one this, always worrying about other people’s feelings but terrible about thinking of his own they were finding.

“It is quite fine I understand and with any luck he might finally get some sense scared into him, we can only hope, yes?”

In a mystery known only to the universe, even by the time Douxie would be inducted into Camelot’s castle, the infamous Barden of the streets would still yet to have been caught. Stories might even claim he’s still out there… Somewhere.


	56. Loss - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could be more paranormal than ending up as a ghost?
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory of something paranormal

The very moment the killing blow struck time it’s self stood by waiting patiently as the world descended into klokarp most pure to give a deserving entrance to the Otzum. They could not perceive them beyond a mere outline that refused to settle yet they knew they were there with an open palm that offered a tantalising chance of a place earned with the ancestors of old who had watched over them for their entire existence. While they reach for it they feel that while they could have done so much _more_ with the bitter anger that still festered in their stone saturated with a need for vengeance but this was not to be and their judgement given would be accepted. It had been an honourable one despite who caused it, desiring anything more would risk being greedy and there could be no greater offense to offer with the last rite of the wakened world.

_Then it all began to_

**_f_ **

**_a_ **

**_l_ **

**_l_ **

**_a_ **

**_p_ **

**_a_ **

**_r_ **

**_t_ **

It began in the form of cracks appearing and the void between worlds crumbling to dust as though it had never been there exposing an oblivion hidden away behind it’s walls and steals away the last of non-existent breath.

Then the grip of niv curls tightly around every joint sinking in teeth and claws akin to the shackles of the fleshbags used forcing them to the ground and preventing their tail from lashing.

Somehow even their throat falls silent with not even a rasp to bear.

The core of their very being is torn from the shell that once protected it leaving behind little more than a lifeless husk.

They are drawn away from their body no matter how much they fight, it is no longer theirs to keep.

…

The next sensation is that of nothingness painted on top of the living plane that shouldn’t even be there. A sniff of the air is stale tinged with past battles that they never witnessed. When they walk four steps at a time claws leave no trace on the ground nor do the blades of grass move. They hear only the rustle of tree, see ancient forest clinging on by a thread devoid of any trace of troll. Something was **wrong** , these are not what the songs spoke of, there are no warriors here and above even the mighty Klokaran is seemingly absent. Had they been truly judged so unworthy that they had to be abandoned here with an ache bubbling in their chest where nothing now exists?

A ghost would walk upon the moors that night, a relic of history not allowed to rest.


	57. Camelot pulled a Dalaran (Heart of Glass AU) - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt I was specifically requested to write in A Heart of Glass verse so I seized the opportunity to refer to a joke I keep making that can only really happen in this universe since Douxie would know about it normally. Comes with some Arcane Order fluff and the need to find even a tiny bit of closure in a mess of a situation. If you're at all interested in the AU you can find [the fic here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894010/chapters/68303761)!
> 
>  **Prompt:** A vivid memory

All journeys start with a single step as the saying goes and there may well be some truth to the idea. It had been one that led to the loss of his hand, one where he fell through the portal to escape, many that had led the two of them to Nari and a handful more from there to the safety of a fortress that had become their home for months on end or possibly longer… It is rather difficult to parse the passage of time when nothing changes other than what can be marked with distinctive milestones: The _before_ , the _welcome_ , the _beginning_ , his _voice_ , the _replacement_. However long it had been however he felt the closest possible to being the _before_ than he ever had despite all the damage and cracks in his head that had been left in it’s wake, something he’d never dared dream was even possible.

The Order’s willingness to allow him to take everything at his own pace was perhaps the greatest of all gifts he’d been given because it seemed that no matter how many times he stumbled or fell there was still that chance there to claw his way back, always managing to reach a little bit further with the unwavering support from more than _just_ his familiar. There were still bad episodes or worse and his ability to sleep soundly remained hellishly erratic but even getting to this point without it would have been simply impossible so he tried to ensure that they knew how thankful and refused to let himself be a burden even during the worst moments particularly when he wasn’t the only one who was suffering. In a secret held only between the two of them he might have even dared starting to think of it like being in a family again but he’s not ready to voice such things aloud, not yet anyway.

What he was planning to do next was simply another step towards finding something to help him once more to being functional yet even the very concept of doing it felt utterly _terrifying_. Asking was even worse and was much dallied over, preparing for an utter nightmare and now there was only one thing left: **leaving**.

Something that had come as a surprise to him was it had turned out that it was rather unusual all three of them to be here at once, Nari _particularly_ had a tendency to wander then reappear with gifts she had brought or tales of things she had seen. There was only one present when the time came as it happened, something he was well aware of, though when Bellroc suddenly appears at his side it still manages to startle him so badly that a small dragon around his neck has to gently comfort to help his heart get back into some sort of order from it’s attempt to leap out his throat. They say nothing though do look somewhat apologetic, being around them so often has made it much easier to read their moods if still needing to glance down first sometimes. They wait patiently and only when Archie is given an appreciative scritch do they speak up.

“Do you have all that you require, Hisirdoux?” They ask softly somewhat ruined by the noise of clacking adjusting to watch.

“With your insistence on _walking_ it would be easy enough to underestimate things for anyone.”

“We will manage I am sure, will be like being a kid again just less of the whole running for our lives thing.” He is given a non-committal hmm for that so he quickly continues before it can be taken the wrong way.

“Be nice though even if _do_ have a specific goal in mind, we used to roam wherever we liked with the freedom to simply do as wanted… Maybe that is looking back on things too simply but we both miss it, used to talk a lot about what was beyond the walls late at night and there is a bit of a novelty in finally finding out I admit.”

"Very well. Then if you are to go ahead with your plans I want you to know that this place was never meant to be seen as your prison. Apart from that being a solely _human_ concept you have always been free to leave whenever you wished, after all what would we gain from keeping you here as long as you drew breath? It's a sanctuary from the world outside and always will be forever long you want. I believe you would call it a **home**."

He doesn’t react at first while carefully deciphering the words then, whether they like it or not, a tight _hug_ is launched Bellroc’s direction forcing Archie to scarper for the hood of his current wear unless he wants to drown in their long feathers declining being part of the action himself. For their part they stand there for a moment, no more idea how to react than the _first_ time this had started happening before tentatively putting their arms around the boy content to allow him decide when the embrace would be over not wanting him to feel they wanted to push him away. As if sensing potential for discomfort they are let go with their personal space returned when Douxie needs a hand free to wipe his eyes clean. Emotions are remaining hard, particularly the happier ones and he is given a gentle nuzzle by the dragon reclaiming his spot.

“Thank you, for everything I mean. You might be able to have peace for a little while…” He doesn’t say anything _specifically_ but images from more humble breakages to alchemical experiments gone horribly wrong spring to mind far louder than the worst things it could have. Perhaps it could be taken as a good sign of starting to heal were anyone to know.

“Quiet is not always a good thing, it will make it all the more obvious you will not be here for a time. Do keep in contact, please? The birds will always find us if it is you who sent for them and while it will not be you personally it will be appreciated knowing how you are getting on.”

“I will remind him if need be.” Douxie shoots him a glare to get only an innocent look in return.

“If one does not go out sooner it _will_ be when we get there minimum. I really do not know how long it will take but I guess that is part of the fun getting to try and clear my head out a bit in the process. I just need to know I can do it, you know?”

“Of course. May your travels be safe, Hisirdoux and Archie, and if you ever run into trouble know there is no place we cannot reach.”

His smile could not have been any wider when he left that day, a knowing reassurance bolstering each and every step.

~~~

The passage of time it turns out is a lot easier to tell where seasons are marked by the change of colour, the work in the fields or festivities coming and going like the tides supposedly did as the pair passed through village and town. The leaves had started to turn when they left originally and now they dazzled in the richest of golds that only just starting to drop one by one threatening the coming of winter and harder going if they did not make it soon. Thus they would press on anyway with knowing, guided by a simple directional spell and stopping nowhere for any more than a day or two to gather more supplies thanking people for their kindness. One bird was summoned on route carefully done under the cover of darkness lest somebody got the wrong idea, things had soured only further against magic since their disappearance from the world and neither wanted to put themselves into a potential firing line.

Eventually places started to become vaguely familiar cropped up in the form of names though with these also came strange rumours that would make the pair look at one another for a moment as though there was something right in front of them that they simply didn’t have the context to quite match. It didn’t help where they were heading was never mentioned once like it had become somewhere cursed along with the talk of some form of exodus that had happened that still sat on every tongue of the gossipers. From there at least the final stretch led them through a wide valley that bordered on woodland and it felt almost _unnaturally_ clear in how spacious it was in the dip and overrun with both grasses and wildflower seeking to reclaim the space for themselves. It felt almost haunting to even exist there, enough that he pulls his hood down to hide his face pressing on with a quicker step and keeping a wary eye until their feet finally found safety on old roads overrun with weed. It was as though nobody bothered to trek along them anymore even in passing which was strange but as they went the direction they needed they simply shrugged and followed them to wherever they might lead.

There was a saying that all roads lead to Rome, in this particular case the same saying should have been to Camelot except standing here now aside from fading traces of the old stone bridge that stretched across the embarkment there was a gaping hole in the ground and with it any chance of closure it might have wrought had been firmly **denied**.

His heart drops.

With a quick nod Archie takes to the air while his companion wanders as closely as he dares to the edge not trusting it entirely. It is poked with a foot to make sure it is not some form of elaborate illusion given who one of the former residents was only to receive confirmation from both that and the dragon’s shouting that there was nothing there despite a place large as Camelot was simply could not _disappear_ , it was simply impossible. His magic begins to crackle with his anger showing his mood even before his outburst does.

“I mean how do you lose an _entire_ kingdom?!”

With a mutter Douxie reaches into the small pack to retrieve a small orb and smashes it firmly between his palms then allows the breeze take the remnants away to wherever they please. With here now being distinctly absent hopefully there will be another on the network still able to pick up the signal, he _had_ promised to send one after getting here but well who knows what exactly they would make of this particular development? Because despite standing right in front of it not a single thing that made any sense was springing to mind and he was completely at a loss of what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would think this would only add to the trauma of everything that happened but surprisingly it doesn't instead becoming more material for the frustration and anger at his situation and being denied even something as small as this. It is something Morgana will pick up on when they meet in the future because while he keeps it very close to his chest there is more than just upset simmering under the surface. Good thing he never got a knack of shadowmancy and is too soft hearted to lash out really.


	58. Standing out - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your regular reminder that Gnasha is a non-binary Gumm-Gumm troll I kidnapped~ Bit shorter this one but sometimes that's simply what they want.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A fading memory

Within the Gumm-Gumm armies there would be many that existed under the banner that would be as good as nameless for what little worth they could offer beyond being simple ruz with nary a thought in their heads even before stripped of them. To have a **name** that was remembered or a title that was earned and carried with pride showed you had value and worth paying attention to even before a rank was assigned alongside it if it were at all. They remember how it had been before there was a… change of leadership you could say, when the clans were little more than a disparate mess largely left doing their own thing apart from offering tribute or awaiting their summons for a battle ahead where they would be expected to unite under one direction until victory then the survivors would disperse afterward bar the select few that remained close to the _Oppressor_ at all times. Their own clan was not one of them preferring their own space and with a suspected assassination in recent years within their own ranks what others did held very little interest. These were the younger days before forced recruitment were even entertained, you could even consider them softer ones perhaps by comparison.

Orlagk, now _there_ was a name that once could be spoken off with veneration and with the famous Decimaar blade in their hands they had a commanding presence that **made** you listen. He knew very little of tactics beyond brute force and cared even less for the concept but he was one of those trolls that led from the front refusing to take the coward’s side-line that many others tried and as the death counts totted up it was never questioned aloud. The battlefield was the only time they remember seeing them which was perhaps fitting being it was where he was truly in his element much like they were. Perhaps they did otherwise? It is doubtful, any attempt is tinged with a nothingness. This period was truly a comfortable life though insufferably boring and left them feeling wanting in how they too was one of the nameless unable to earn even a glimmer making their pride bruise no matter how many they took down in their wake. Boredom a dangerous troll doth make.

How funny it was that the same name and the dynasty of his bloodline is now only met with mockery since the removal of their head during a leadership fight that became such an intrinsic part of all troll folklore for the brutality as much as the beauty of it. Oh and how the former allegiances with any sense switched when the former general turned Opradush held his new title aloft or found themselves crumbling under wiser heels, that was a _very_ entertaining time for them. What they did not realise was how his remaining eye had been watching with judgement and already new favourites were beginning to be chosen.


	59. Rooftop meetings - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has finally come for Zouxie content again as I've unfortunately not had much opportunity for it with the prompts I got this run. Sometimes quieter moments are just as important as the big ones particularly when it's someone who knows you so well and understands what you need without making a big deal about it. There is a saying that you're dating your best friend that I think people can forget about.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory of romance/love

As things went this was hardly the _fanciest_ of places for a meet up what with the air being filled with the chatter of people finally heading home, the odd bit of traffic passing through and the glare of the streetlights to contend with plus the more obvious of being on a bitta concrete that made up the roof of the bookshop. Sure he’d hauled up a couple of chairs from the storage room but that doesn’t really liven it up all that much but the idea of going back to the apartment felt stifling and having come off a late shift heading out of town needed an awful lot more mental energy than he had not to mention the budding headache. The temptation to grab one of the drinks in the cooler early to help is being staunchly resisted but only barely.

This all left him here at the edge idly watching the world go as many a night had been spent with hands tucked in his hoodie pockets to stop them from getting chilled. Behind him Archie had claimed one of the chairs for himself saying he was helping by warming it first through the power of a comfortable post-snack nap so he’d ruffled his fur and left him to it with a tired smile. When you live for a _very_ a long time you learn to be patient for many things and when it came to certain people? Well, you can easily wait entire lifetimes if you need to because they’ll be worth every second when they’re finally here. Running late was nothing in comparison.

Colourful cursing about the dust was the first giveaway of the impending arrival followed by the dull thuds of the metal stairs getting louder as the maker got closer to the hatch doors. They had been left swung open to _try_ and dissuade any idea of kicking them, it’d taken long enough to buff out the last boot print that had been ever so generously left in it a few months back because it was deemed more efficient than using the handle like a normal person. When one is struck with one of her steel cap boots anyway showing her mood wasn’t all that much better, he pretends it didn’t really phase him despite the involuntary wince it caused. The footsteps become quieter after that, slowly coming closer until sleeved arms are slipped under his coming to a rest on top of his hidden ones and there’s the feeling of a face being pressed between his shoulder blades. There is a mumble at first that is barely coherent and when it gets no response she tries again which while still muffled her voice becomes a little easier to understand.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself, rough day?”

The pause is distinct enough that he can almost imagine the fact she’s frowning over which words to use that keeps the fine balance of not making him worry or in saying too much either.

“Nothing is on fire.”

“Yet?”

“ _Yet_.”

Tilting his head back as much as he can comfortably manage with a hmn, the most he can make out from this angle is the pink of Zoe’s hair seemingly content enough to simply _be_ here and he is more than happy to oblige. Douxie’s foot then begins to tap out a beat following it by softly humming a melody he’d been working on recently hoping the soothing background noise along with the shared warmth might help as much as the unexpected hug is already doing for him. It was surprising how much words weren’t always needed to fill a vacant space left in silence, with Archie being with him so long he hadn’t really noticed how much he appreciated it himself until he got to experience these snatches of moments with other people. Somehow company with somebody you care about could be enough to make it that bit easier to breathe when the weight of the world bears down on you.

As the ‘song’ gradually comes to an end he is squeezed tightly around his middle perfectly on cue after the final note leaves his lips and the precious contact withdraws. Taking a deep breath the wizards spins around on his heels catching an expression that remains mildly with arms are crossed with the long sleeves hanging over her fingers to bat away the cold and eyes a bit smudged around the edges. Whatever it was must be still bothering her a bit so a hand goes from a pocket to a new home in her hair giving it a light ruffle in the process getting a half-hearted glare for his trouble though no attempt to bat it away. He flashes her a wide grin.

“I brought the cooler up too by the way, figured might need it given today being _whatever_ it’s been exactly. Sucked is too nice a word.” Blue narrows suspiciously as though he was secretly up to something.

“For _yourself_ or was this some flash of foresight?”

“If it was the _latter_ I’d have said no to more than a few things today, still not got the knack for it I’m afraid.” With a huff she rolls her eyes and starts to wander over to where the chairs had been left out eager to finally get off her feet again if only for a while.

“I _did_ however bring some black forest I got as extra buuuut if you don’t want it…”

“Oh that is definitely mine don’t you even think about it. Heya soot sprite,” she says carefully scooping up the familiar to take his nicely toasted spot. He is then carefully placed in her lap with barely a twitch from the sleeping form who is completely dead to the world and rumbling away contentedly.

“I call dibs on the portable heater.”

Walking over to join them with a smile that is all too soft somehow with so many stars out above them and in the best company he could possibly ask for he cannot help but think that yeah, maybe this date night wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	60. New beginnings - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This contains some references to [Tascheter's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tascheter/pseuds/tascheter) excellent [changeling fic!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459174/chapters/61753261)
> 
>  **Prompt:** A childhood memory

There was _something_ about the salt in the sea air that had a rather annoying habit of triggering memories of the past akin to tumbling down an unwanted rabbit hole. These would hop gamely from the current to the Salty Crevasse with it’s toxic airs then finally plummet into the Darklands that made up the first home any of the stolen whelps could remember. Because whatever magics used to keep them small (Fun-sized he believes someone referred to it as, crude but accurate) did not stop them from developing mentally and even with banding together or forming little hopeful cliques who their **masters** were always had to be reinforced early through gentle coaxing that could never be questioned. Why would you bite the hand that feeds you after all? Even the youngest newcomers were expected to catch up with the rest and quickly, stragglers would not be accepted. Their language and written skills would be taught enough to be functional but never anything that could encourage ideas because they were far too dangerous a thing to have and oh what a humble time this seemed. An eternal night that would never end ensuring you were safe whilst doing what you were told let you snatch the few rewards offered your way.

Then things began to shift ever so _gradually_ that it is hard to pinpoint exactly how it happened. Now it was time to prove your usefulness towards the future war machine you would later be part of even in this shape. Failure was to be made to be an example for the others and nobody wanted that thus unknowingly to them the seeds of the Order were sown early.

With the perspective of _age_ it was all the more obvious of how the second stage was little more than a prison designed to make the idea of freedom all the more enticing. They would be encouraged to fight in carefully watched brawls despite the small limbs, to climb the rock with the constant reminder of what would happen if they slipped, to ambush others and hunt as all trolls are want to do but with a deadlier edge to the games. Again and again truces and friendships would be made and shattered at whim all while eager to impress the indifferent audience. This would be the new routine in any hour not spent sleeping interrupted only by when every so often a non-name would be chosen to disappear to a beyond and the whispers would always be the same that they might be on the next stage of their journey towards the fabled Surface lands regardless of how true it was. The idea helped the bonfires burned and they flourished more with each fresh body that came.

They were partly right as it turned out, taken away from where they knew intimately then simply abandoned in a cavern to figure their own way out using the skills that had been drilled into them with no clue as to how. Alas there would be nothing to be found no matter what crevice that tried to eek through or the endless drops of a cliff edge, the only potential is that of a pool which carried tempting whispers of a gift if they could _only_ come a bit closer to see it for themselves. There would only be one option because to be truly crowned a changeling you must be bathed in Her light, to feel death drown your lungs and **sacrifice** the other being that still bore their innocence before they dragged you down too. Survival at all costs even if that face would haunt you for the rest of your life.

The first gasps after your choice is made are always the most potent coming from wretched burned lungs that cough and splutter back into life as they do along with the knowing that somehow you were different. Changed. There would be no going back and one of your true brethren would be there waiting for you to finish, damned to the core as you.

“It’s time,” they whisper softly offering a hand while you still spluttered with eyes of hard jade.

“Your first assignment awaits.”


	61. A chance to live - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gnasha is probably an unusual troll by some standards particularly in they never gave up their traditional upbringing as their status in the army changed but that is partly what can make them so dangerous. You regular reminder that are a non-binary Gumm-Gumm troll I kidnapped too.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory that may or may not have happened

A _wise_ Opradush never kept all their Nyarlagroth eggs in one nest thus it was no surprise that the Gumm-Gumm army were frequently spread over vast distances with Generals entrusted with the upkeep and to carry out given orders. This continent of land they called home was a vast one and while the churning seas were impossible to tread by any of their numbers, their race had more than enough patience to march the long way to find all the nooks and crannies fellow trolls tried to hide in when they attempted to refused to pay tribute or make themselves useful in serving their Warlord who protected all of their kind. Warriors could be lost during travel, battle or even sickness which made keeping their numbers healthy important and Gnasha was the type that should respect be served and the signs true, chances would always be offered. Why waste the energy razing to make a point unless it was absolutely necessary? Sometimes a bit of careful nudging would be all that was needed to bring them into line or even provide unexpected boons.

Any stupid enough to claim any of this was done out of softness would be relieved of their heads before their words were finished.

With the latest rise of Klokaron’s might the ruz begin to rise grumpily from their slumber having not particularly enjoyed this particular General’s keenness to abuse every drop of light while it was in their favour. While _they_ were ready to depart immediately, as long as their dawdling did not interfere with their duties they could allow it as it would be ignorant to assume all were carved from the same stone after all just meant some were a poor fit to be under their leadership…. Though if they burned much more Kloka it would be a _very_ different story, there had already been one accident occur almost a season ago and a second was not impossible. Still if they were starting to get restless perhaps an alternative for them to sink teeth into may be wiser and could there any greater joy in hunting for fresher meat after a diet consisting largely of deer and bear for the past fortnight? Stragglers found on the roads were rare and through their status they took priority on the prime food source, this was likely an overdue turn.

Thumping their tail to gain attention with the minimal of noise they watch over the party of seven who swiftly scrabble to attention saluting with the hand not holding a weapon.

“Tell the walkers to gather our supplies, we move out to follow a trail that has presented it’s self upon the bramla. If they are slow do not harry them, they have not been trained in the ways we have and should not be treated as such,” they say with a snort, gold eyeing one in particular who had touched the line though had yet to cross it. Lucky for them.

“They are with us until I choose otherwise but I do not expect any further dawdling than you have already cost us. Dismissed.”

The lot of them scatter like rabbits eager to get moving as much as not wanting to cause any further annoyance proving exactly why none of these will ever stretch beyond their station here, it was simply beyond their ability. At least they are not left waiting long and the march can begin with Gnasha at their head choosing a route that coasts the treeline to give their tag-alongs cover should it be required and would help break up the silhouettes if any if the watch’s the fleshbags sometimes employed carried torches of flame or mystery lights. There would often be an issue with the creatures called dogs being a noisy nuisance though they are wrapped in a reasonably edible form and ill suited with dealing with the issue of roaming trolls.

When checked again the scent whispered that they were not far and behind them they can hear how the nearest were already itching for the tantalising glimpses that lay ahead in in little shelters made of wood and stone where they were perfectly exposed to all and sundry.

_What a pity_

Knowing the temptation to break rank risked getting the better of the ruz if they wait much longer they order them to attention immediately then send the walkers into the trees where they are to stand by until given the signal to join them for fleshbag or not until they were _certain_ of the safety of the area lest an ambush be waiting. Despite the grumbling from the weaker members of their party a glare quickly sets them right with the reminder that insubordination would be acceptable by no one. Quickly they take their things and melt back into the shadows where it would be impossible for those without the gift to see them. With another thump of their tail, they descend onto fours to help mask their much larger build and launch straight into a charge as eager as the rest for the soon to be carnage and oh what one it would be!

Foolish things that they were no alarm could be sounded for their watch had retired to bed early much like the rest had expecting a quieter night and by the time the dogs started to raise the alarm the village was already filled with hungry trolls with even more coming when the bellow is sounded. The death trap is further emphasised by the screaming of those snatched from their beds or farm tools wielded in a poor attempt to drive them back shattering upon stone and the sobbing tears. With such easy pickings it is rather tame prey for their liking but it would at least keep the lot of them sated for a good while and not a trace would be le-

The General lifts their head with a maw well-stained catching a fleeting glimpse of one of the small ones bolting beyond the walls likely hoping to be spared. Flashing a grin they tilt their head left, right, left again as though counting before perusing this little thing with such an incredibly indulgent gait that it gives it more than an ample opportunity to escape for it’s daring. By intention or not they only becoming more _delighted_ each time it looks back in terror until it finally is able to dive into the now unguarded woods and the visual is lost. With a long hummed sound as they approach their movements become more akin to a languid cat in how they sniff the air curiously pretending to truly have no idea where it had fled. The mystery of whether it would chose to run or to hide intrigues so they decide to play with it a little more by aimlessly wandering or deliberately rustling branches above as if to shake them of their spot. The act is kept up perhaps too long but they felt in too good a mood _not_ to.

“Such a clever little **rodent** ,” they say with an almost sing-song tone while slinking it’s direction.

Finally they zero in on it’s hiding place and press their armoured snout against the trunk that hid the child given away easily by how with each draw of breath spoke so or the noisy whimpering. How easy it would be to simply rip the trunk aside and pluck them from the splintered remains like that of fleshy fruit that had turned just ripe but they decide they shall not do so, instead they give it a chance to choose a fate it felt most fitting to have... With a little incentive of course. A pair of claws begin to scrape erratically down the bark far higher up while wondering if it would decide to leap straight into their jaws or would it manage to hold it’s nerve as the sound grows ever closer and closer to the tiny hole that must have been used to squeeze inside?

Click

Crack

Click

Crack

Hm.

 _The boy is left alone_.


	62. A Kindred spirit - Nomura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the last of Nomura's drabbles in this batch! And nothing dies (Yet) in a great shock to all.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A vivid memory

_So why do I get the job of babysitter?_

_The response was sighed almost like even answering such a question was putting him out his way to do while he shuffled the papers around his desk in some grand display._

_To be blunt it’s your human heritage. Given what happened recently the lady in question is incredibly on edge and is more likely to respond to someone she can share a superficial connection with and by irony you will appear the least threatening. A glamour mask while plausible is a risk higher than I would prefer and Otto after the last incident in heels is surprisingly an even worse option for this particular assignment._

_Seriously?_

_Humans are prone to cliques as much as anyone else, Nomura, of all we have available you are the most suited. Get the information we need while keeping her alive and get out - The task will be simple enough if a little duller than you are accustomed to._

The storming out with the stuffed manila envelope tucked away under her arm was not particularly subtle but then she was furious, what had the idiot expected her reaction to be? Being pleasing to the eye to some random cretin was despised but at least rarely lasted more than a couple of hours. Being pleasant to people or her fellow changelings she had no interest in as why would she care to be _nice_ for backstabbers? The idea of having to consistently be the latter where she would have to play up the little ditzy fairy who knew not a thought like most in this era was **infuriating** pressing assignment or not.

On top of that the data she had been given was vague at best. Apparently this is an Asian American second generation named Hannah (Hana) Sakai who had somehow managed to land herself a job likely because of a few strings being pulled to allow her a foot in the door and gave a title that was a fancy way of saying drink server. Lived alone, had a small dog and most importantly had somehow managed to get her hands on particularly sensitive information that would be to their benefit if it was misplaced in the correct direction. She was probably too stupid to even realise what she even had, they usually were from experience.

The first meeting came with a surprise in just how easy this Hannah was to talk to for somebody who took professional conduct to all endeavours and _certainly_ was no one’s friend. It started from the way her face had lit up even when they had done little more than a simple exchange of pleasantries, made apologies for what she was made to go through and how useless the (All male naturally) police force were being about the attempted break in. Nomura, unable to resist the temptation, had snarked about how the broken glass still scattered in the carpet was probably more useful than the _so called_ law enforcement to receive the most unexpected reaction of uproarious laughter and told she couldn’t be more right. What was only supposed to be a few minute chat for introductions somehow managed to keep her there for nearly an hour bonding over the sheer annoyance of being treated like an exotic instead of a person by all and sundry.

The second meeting came within a few days this time in a small street side café because she hadn’t felt safe enough at home when the window was still boarded up and someone was kindly looking after Bichu on her behalf. They talked about work with the changeling claiming she was a local library assistant but was often stuck in the backrooms because the lead didn’t like the idea of her being seen and distracting the patrons while she mentioned how the men at her own office treated her more like a servant than staff. On the sly she mentions that it did happen to make it easier to overhear things when people forget you’re there then acts like there was nothing said at all. The smile she gave was genuine.

The third one came at the end of the week after the expected pilgrimage to church had finally concluded with a thank you for being willing to wait. While walking between the headstones they talked about the desire to get their own back on their respective bosses but not quite daring to go through with it because of the risk of being caught and the fallout it would cause when they already stand out but they entertain the idea of it in conversation anyway. They began to nudge one another in the shoulder with some of the more excitable of their ideas being chucked about keen to get meticulous in details and desired results. She was happy to simply take her mind off the threats that had started to appear in her post box that very morning while Nomura caught glimpses of someone trying to follow though they balked when she glared right at them. F they kept this up a message would need to be sent.

The final one came in the little apartment Hannah had be put up in after she had complained about someone who had tried to break the front door in of her home leaving heavy indents obvious to everyone. From where she is sat politely in the high-backed chair with ankles crossed Nomura had noticed how the girl kept looking towards a particular desk drawer she sat beside whenever she talked about how worried she was getting about the threats though made no grand show of it. When a drink is offered there is a pause in talking about the latest book shipment to lean across to take the wine glass offered and clinked it in solidarity for good health despite the hostile world outside. A hand is gently patted with her free one and she added reassurance that as useless as they are even _they_ can’t miss how unsubtle they’re being going after her. The expression she is given back is light as silk.

When there is a dull thud at the front door causing Hannah to apologise while she goes to collect whatever just came in she waited to the very second she was out of sight before quickly taking the opportunity to raid the spot in question that contained the all-important coded slip. After slipping it into a concealed pocket of her dress where even if someone happened to bump into her they could not realise it was there thanks to the stiffness of the fabric it is ensured that she is back where expected with a quirked brow when her companion returned. She spoke of her relief that they hadn’t found this place yet and asked what she made of the arts.

With the mission was now complete it would be easy enough to drop all contact afterwards and slip back into the shadows as though they had never met leaving the poor thing to deal with the consequences of getting hold of the wrong bit of paper. It was ever so strange how the idea of walking out that door would be the last time they would see one another particularly given it is _just_ a human and they are a dime a dozen at the best of times. Over the lid of her glass she wondered if perhaps she will give her a little parting gift in a way that could almost be mistaken for kindness… After all who is really going to miss some big shot that was about to tighten the noose on someone who didn’t even have their prize any more?


	63. Seeking answers - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What actually happened is hinted at in the previous drabble [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26970400/chapters/71626146). Your regular reminder than Gnasha goes by they/them pronouns!
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory of something paranormal

From Gronka comes Gova and from Morka comes Otzum. These are the order of all things that can and will be in the eternal cycle much like how the Ram will give way to Klokaran each eve. A day will come when all will pass from this world to the other and while many would hope for it to be through old age it is not always meant to be so for it is a hostile place meaning many will be lost to injury, upon the battlefield or through sickness and plague ripping through the hearts of a clan. For all the best intentions there are simply some things that **cannot** be fought to the last and won no matter how hard you try for be you young or old you will endure only in the form of stories should you be lucky enough to make a mark.

They knew this well however it does not mean suspicions cannot be raised when circumstances appear strange and that would be an understatement for ones such as these. A lorekeeper does _not_ take a turn so violently that nothing that was consumed could be held down when they were perfectly healthy for their age days prior. Even the softest of foods given to whelplings or those without teeth to grind made no difference and she wasted ever faster than should have been possible even from starvation. If they were asked to be specific it was like her very stone was being drained to the very last drop until there was nothing left to give. No matter the centuries that have passed nor how many kills you can proudly state you caused it is not something any child should witness happening to their own mother right before their eyes and it would haunt for the rest of their life.

The rites of passage were given true despite hushed whispers that it would not be wise to do so after such an ill omen took them thanks to the threat that they would do everything themselves if they had to because she would have expected nothing less for all she had given during her stay upon this plane. Some still balked, their names would be silently noted for the future, though enough members came to assist and made travel far easier to bear. The remaining husk was moved to a vacant spot so that while it may crumble her spirit would be honoured in a way fitting for her status by encouraging the future growth of plants and mosses that could one day benefit many trolls. This would be where they could feel closest to them despite they had already departed for no doubt harrying those that watched along with their fallen warriors to get them into shape for their slacking, it would be a very _her_ thing to do.

There was also an issue of succession because no heir to her role had a chance to be chosen such was the speed of how things went which was the other thing that drew their suspicious eye. The law spoke that if the former cannot present the next in line a council will be met to declare a new one which risked meddling from those playing favourites or attempting to secure future boons and frankly they did not like how this could potentially flow. They knew who their mother had her _own_ eye on but their voice counted for naught here but perhaps… Perhaps hers still could.

It took nearly a week to gather the required ingredients in part to keep such things a secret while the others descended into pointless bickering which did give them an ideal cover and distraction from it all. While they would never take her place, it had been made clear as such when they were a whelp, they _had_ still been taught some of the craft should it be needed in an emergency such as basic healing techniques using natural poultices friendly to a variety of flesh but also how they might seek guidance on a subject they could not ask of another troll and in times like these they were thankful she thought to do so. The next stage could only happen at the omla tat when Klokaran would be at their most full and they had it all planned it to perfection.

Fresh moss is pressed downwards to soak in a decrepit stew made of dust from the old body and a chip from one of their own spines that had been ground into a mixture and left to sit in a small bowl of carved stone and it would not be released again until not a drop remained. Only when satisfied do they remove the now blackened sponge ensuring to hold it away so that they may clean the bowl with spring water brought especially then return the moss. After running their hands through the same water to clean them from any residue that had attempted to stain the bowl is then placed upon her crown and they step back with a bowed head to prove their humility.

“Otzum, I ask that you grant me the permission to seek answers from those you have taken as kin,” they state calmly ensuring each word is spoken clearly and firm. They take the moment to strike a small piece of flint against their palm causing sparks set the moss ablaze causing it to burn in a strange purple light most disturbing. It is ignored.

“I offer you this as a small token from flesh of both whom I wish to speak and myself. I fear there is trouble in our clan and will remain unsatisfied until I know the truth and ask that you forgive my most ignorant needs.”

Gnasha knows they have succeeded when they feel the gentle touch upon their shoulder.


	64. Mistakes of mercy - Otto Scaarbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a non-Otto related death.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A repressed memory

No matter how good you _think_ you are there will always be the a risk of the stupidest little things that will trip you up and ruin everything leaving you scrambling to not make things worse. Footsteps coming a little bit too soon, the drunken stumblings of another body the least fortuitous way, your information being _very_ incorrect on the location of a pickup, even something as simple as a wrong target… Now the latter one was always a particularly nasty development and sadly not always caused by your source being vindictive but either way the results were always messy regardless.

Anyway, how was _he_ supposed to know that the form he had taken of a now corpse happened to be the husband to a woman who saw him attempting to get back to the safe house? He was in enough pain as it was with a likely dislocated shoulder and freshly bruised both round the eyes and throat, it was all just some horrible coincidence that he walked right into. Then to make matters worse this unknown lady with auburn hair plaited tight forced his able arm over her own and there was such steel in this woman’s pale eyes with all anger directed at the cause ( _Oh the irony_ ) of his situation than any towards himself and seemed oddly protective of despite her petit size in comparison. From that point he knew there wasn’t anything to be done in that moment given there was every chance of her accidently drawing attention his way and the pain was muddling his thoughts furiously thus he was half dragged half marched in silence until they reached the presumed home where she unwittingly led a perfect stranger inside. Before he could utter a word he had been sat down in a chair by an open roaring fire and left while she went elsewhere.

The entire situation was simply bewildering in how fast it all had happened alone.

“Quite the finest mess you have landed yourself into this time,” is muttered darkly before there is an attempt to move the hanging right arm though the flash of pain quickly derails the ideas of fixing it without help.

“Ach, least nobody will have to know of the embarrassment. She can be merciful at times.”

Any further grumblings are interrupted when his “saviour” returns carrying a paper-thin box tucked under her arm and makes a strange gesture with her hands that he cannot not immediately recognise. He blinks. Frowning deeply her palms are raised before a second attempt is made with slower and clearer finger movements and while it takes him a moment he manages to process that she must be mute, it would explain the odd silence. Unable to decipher this particular version she uses he attempts to bluff instead.

“Forgive me, I must have hit my head a bit too hard!” he answers all apology while motioning to both his face and shoulder hoping that the lack of using a name won’t turn around and bite him soundly.

“ _Wars_ have been far gentler.”

Otto is given a silent version of a few tuts and another series of gestures between her mouth and chest then she places the box on the nearby table so that she may start sorting through the contents for whatever specific thing she might be after. From the various small bottles and bandages removed it clearly is medical based, this is quite a savvy one to be having her own supplies in an age where the idea of a woman with a skillset having long fallen out of favour for their supposed dainty hearts being too weak to handle anything. There is another wince when she starts to roll up the sleeves of her blouse to tackle the most pressing issue knowing what’s coming. Unexpectedly she ever so gently presses her lips to his forehead causing a mild blush, a finger to be wagged in his peripheral vision and the hanging hand taken in her own as though to comfort what will no doubt be excruciating encounter.

It is these simple gestures that makes him inwardly wonder if this is what it was like with people whom you are not forced into watching your back on the constant just to be on the safe side? It felt so _different_ from the family connection endured through your initial host parents and less of an expectation of duty but something of genuine care? Kindness? The tiniest scrap of his mind contemplates if the right descriptor would be a word that starts with an **l** but it is quickly stamped down as utterly ridiculous because that is a disgustingly soft human trait and not one a changeling could possibly know or understand. Like so many things it was something to be faked to get what you needed from another and there are far more important things to be focu- -

His thought process is quickly derailed by the **awful** grinding pain when the shoulder is forcibly shoved back into the socket and he does not even pretend that it did anything other than set his nerves were set on fire and cause a hissed yell that doesn’t stop even when the movement does. She says nothing of course despite the cursing being spoken so close to her ears, no instead she is gently rubbing the shoulder blade with one hand while the other is gently checking all the joints down the limb to make sure they are working as they should. After another pained groan he gives her a grateful look because it would be too impolite to do otherwise and is offered a loving smile in return and a wink. A hand motions to the box and she is now pouring something that smelt utterly foul onto a cloth and bringing it over to dab carefully around his still swelling eyes in an action so softly done that almost reminds him of a mother’s.

Alas a changeling by nature means no loose ends should ever be left over no matter how small for they are too much of a risk to do and he cannot stay here longer than absolutely necessary when there is a string leading to this very home with a ticking clock following it’s wake. It will be well into the night when she is slumbering deeply that he will apologise truthfully before her throat is slit. The second he leaves that home he will never remember doing so.


	65. Age of a new General - General Gnasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last of Gnasha's drabbles come with guest stars in the form of Ruejen and Kethiro who have been kidnapped with permission from lordofthedarklands on Tumblr! Gnasha as ever goes by they/them pronouns.
> 
> **Prompt:** A vivid memory

When a **summons** by the Skullcrusher is called you listen and obey for such was the way of things within the Gumm-Gumm army because your rank denotes as much expectation on what you do as it does privilege over your fellow troll. The runner was annoyingly vague on exactly what this was to be about and while not particularly _surprising_ as word was brought directly to them meaning it was of great import it is always better to have a sense of what to expect thus it meant that this would be little more than a blind walk. While irritating it was acceptable, their position is not one meant for asking questions without prompting and they were hardly about to start doing so now. As loathe as they were for Rhinebeck to keep an eye on things in their absence needs must and all that, hopefully she wouldn’t start a riot through her ‘creative’ solutions to boredom in however long this planned on taking, it would not be the first time. Luck be with them that the travel would not be a long enough to tempt it. _Ugh_.

Even by hauling as fast as they are able it still costs half the kloka while following their far nimbler guide but they persevere not wanting to risk being stranded by the Ram and force him to wait any longer than absolutely necessary. The approach immediately strikes them as strange because of the _absence_ of much of the ruz or any of the others that normally would be standing to attention even out here, in fact even their guide quickly deserts. Letting out a snort they wander towards the temporary throne claimed in this current home territory rising up onto too feet and push deeper into the carved rock while cautiously refusing to allow themselves to be caught any further unawares. There is no true innocence in this world after all, better to be suspicious than caught after all.

As they continue forth through the tunnel the cavern slowly widens to be flooded with the light of blue crystals that had been harvested from elsewhere and repurposed to further enhance the natural colours of their Opradush. The Prince is already there they notice standing proudly alongside his father with arms crossed and a gleam of expectation in his glowing eyes. He nods curtly their direction when they slam their chest with a fist.

“I heard your command and came as soon as I was able, please forgive me for how long I forced you to wait,” they state firmly with a bowed head and do not dare lift it again until they are addressed to show their respect.

“My General, as ever you do not disappoint. Now that you are finally here I have an announcement to give.” The words are spoken softly with a hint of a smile hidden amongst the fangs that suggest nothing they can recognise.

“Ruejen, Kethiro your presence is now required. Bring forth the Krubera.”

Ruejen is the first to emerge from the darkness seen just out the corner of their eye with his head held high causing the light to make their charcoal stone stand out from their darker mane more than usual. Truly it is almost strange to see him without a weapon in hand though understandable and he gives them a glancing look for barely a beat before green eyes focus on where they should be. Kethiro follows afterwards like the twin shadow the pair often were ushering the other troll ahead of him with a muttered word or two ensuring that the youngest is placed in front of them before taking his own position. Their pale mane is positively gleaming against their slate coloured stone and far darker horns with an almost ethereal tone that always making them appear far _older_ than they really were. The mess of moss hair before them remains silent wisely calling upon the lessons taught though hopefully with their eyes averted if they have any sense. This is not the time for coddling reminders.

Looking over the four of them and satisfied all is well Gunmar speaks with a tone that screamed of every drop of authority he commands as easily as breathing.

__"_ Vo wema zotteni ops dush bruzen, vorn twiz wema hidhen hwen fai uma vok hurmena. Toz eks Klokaran bruzena yalpo zotten vo. _"__ Not a word nor murmur is said by any but there is a sense of curiosity in the air given it is spoken so formally.

“My decree is thus: A new General is to be added to our ranks and they stand before me in this very space having proven their value and worth for such a position to be bestowed.”

There is a pause that is marred only by the sounds of their Opradush rising to his feet and the tension begins to pitch ever higher with it with all eyes watching every twitch of stone.

“ **Aarghaumont** upon this night you are welcomed into the ranks of elites as my newest General.”

Even a _corpse_ could have been quieter than the shock that reverberated in that moment for even Bular is caught completely off guard from the way his widened eyes stare at his father incredulous who in turn simply seemed simply amused by all the (Likely shocked) reactions set out before him. For their part Gnasha ensures that they school their expression into that of a neutral one as to not betray their own thoughts. They had _known_ this troll since they were little bigger than the Prince so to come from that, particularly given their origins, and reach the same rank they hold? Certainly they could not say such a thing wasimpossible but that made it no less unexpected to behold. He must have been proving his mettle while they have been based elsewhere on the continent, there certainly could be far worse choices chosen and he was a tolerable one if forced to admit.

__"_ Vo koppena, Skullcrusher_.” It is spoken so devoid of emotion yet humbled around the edges. Hm, perhaps a private word will be in order to prise out of them what they really feel about this change. They have not moved even to salute as though the idea never occurred to him.

It is whilst in the middle of planning exactly how to broach it that Ruejen pipes up while tapping his chest and tail flicking at the tip.

“I respect your decision as always as ever, Opradush Gunmar, however would you permit me the right to test our newest General in combat? I wish to see his mettle for myself.”

Somebody hissed a curse; they are not sure who and it could well have been them. Eyes dart between him and the throne where the Underlord looks positively _amused_ at the idea as though someone had just offered a boon without even realising what they had done. A glowing eye locks with the Lieutenant-General where he defiantly refuses to buckle under the stare.

“I will allow it.”

It would be a lie to say Gnasha was not interested to see how such a thing would go, they did not expect punishment to be rolled into the guise of a ‘friendly’ spar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over the Trollish for a surprise :)


	66. A Tribute under the stars - Douxie Casperan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe we're finally at the end of the 30 prompt binge? Surprisingly we are! I nearly wrote this one for the third prompt but held it back, then it turned musical again for some reason, grew and grew, became themed and had a bit of a double meaning too. You know _fun_ stuff. Hope you've enjoyed them because I refuse to take on anymore until March and gonna be working on fics instead, I need a break.
> 
>  **Prompt:** A memory of their father

At least a whole month had passed since the three of them had come to end up in a somehow even more scrungy apartment based in the heart of New York City and despite the chill of the air Douxie had snuck outside onto the balcony in dire need of something a bit fresher than the mustiness of inside to be alone with his thoughts. Despite all the filtration wards that had been set up to make Nari that little bit more comfortable they barely seemed to be making a dent and the second he realised he was fidgeting more than focusing on the paper sitting on the coffee table outside seemed the wiser course and so here he was.

Stupid as it might sound life of late was feeling disturbingly monotonous in how it was get up early (UGH), grab something quick to go because there wouldn’t be a chance to eat until the first shift was over, hopefully get a snack before heading to the second job then if _really_ lucky have enough time to crawl back here to collapse somewhere with no energy left for much else except on those scarce days off eked out when the stars aligned right. The three job days were even worse, you wouldn’t think his sleep schedule could get even more erratic but it turns out the threat of higher rent could do that to anyone and he was a particularly soft target to begin with.

On top of that as someone who _adores_ travelling staying put for long usually drove him stir crazy after a few months he was already showing signs of it happening here too. In comparison somehow Arcadia never did, maybe it was because it’d felt like a **home** much like Camelot had done once? Part of the reason was definitely the fact Zoe could be a constant for the first time ever compared to the days, weeks or months scattered over the centuries whereas now they were once again forced apart by both wrong end of the continent stuck with phone calls or laughing at one another over the camera only. He misses the bookshop so much work had been put into, the customers that came into Benoit’s always asking how he was doing, the novelty of not having to pretend trolls didn’t exist even if the whole Akriridon thing was a surprise not to mention the apocalypse round two that came with them. It was a good normal and one he was felt a bit lost without.

Leaving also meant that certainty of Merlin was out there somewhere waiting for his moment to pop back up really was gone, something that had been a constant reassuring thought and it’s almost like being a moored boat just one wave away from drifting to parts unknown. Much like the explosion some things that happened still didn’t seem _real_ , more like they were more this weirdly vivid nightmare that forgot to let him wake up so was stuck in a golden haze with no way out.

Glancing through the door he can just about make out Archie perched next to Nari on the armrest having grabbed the sofa for herself and looks to be marvelling at something on the TV making him smile softly. It’s likely one of the David Attenborough docs she seemed to have become quite taken with particularly in how the camera could ‘travel’ between all these places faster than even she could. Neither had the heart to say it was clever video editing, even the magical deserved a bit of _sparkle_ in their lives. This’ll just be for him then and that’s fair enough.

Grabbing one of the two shoddy white plastic lawn chairs he’d picked up dirt cheap with the added bonus of easy cleaning he sits down and pulls his favourite guitar into his lap. Taking a deep breath to try and dislodge anything that might be rattling around his throat that shouldn’t be he begins to strum a few testing notes and making a few minor adjustments to get things about how they’re needed. There had been words banding through his head the past twenty minutes and if they weren’t going to let themselves be written down then going straight to testing will have to do he supposed. Using the staff was an option but… Maybe when he is more certain that he won’t be spit balling something terrible, on the fly usually fell one way and not always in the positive.

Grazing the strings once then a second time, the wizard begins to quietly sing not at all caring who might hear.

~*---*~

_Within the earliest boughs of Spring_

_Everything felt fresh, new and wild_

_Full of possibilities it could bring_

_Was spared a sword and led away_

_Into the court of a King_

_Things were so **innocent** back then_

_Night became day and day into night_

_With chores as endless as my curiosity_

_Who could have imagined such a sight?_

_An orphan free to roam in a castle_

_Yet easily scared by a simple knight_

_I guess it was only a matter of when_

_As I grew older things started to change_

_You saw something coming, didn’t you?_

_I noticed, I did, even thought it strange_

_You grew quieter and the arguments worse_

_Everything I knew had started to rearrange_

_Spring was finally coming to an end_

_That Summer would burst into life_

_Blazing ready to reduce everything to ash_

_It sensed blood and carried a long knife_

_Poked and prodded them all just so_

_Then marvelled at the ensuring strife_

_With hindsight it was such an obvious trend_

_Within your fabled workshop_

_You would perfect the Amulet_

_After working for hours and hours nonstop_

_A weapon to save Camelot you said_

_But it was not humans it would adopt_

_To Trolls instead it would ascend_

_Killahead came ordering lines to be redrawn_

_I remember that Arthur was lost first_

_Wasn’t this supposed be a new dawn?_

_Yet I lost of a sister, a Master, a home_

_And only more resentment did it spawn_

_There was only now Archie I could depend_

_Time started to become rather slippery_

_Though I did what you bade to the letter_

_Silently we became watchers of history_

_Dwelling in this brand new Autumn_

_I was spending it in as much happiness as misery_

_Some days it was much harder to pretend_

_During a trip to Babylon fought a specterghast_

_Helped move a strigoi on that was haunting folks_

_Honestly the adventures have been unsurpassed_

_The people, the food, all of the places_

_The future started to seem so much brighter than the past_

_Even met someone who’d one day be more than a friend_

_Learned far more than I dared dream_

_Visited places beyond imagination_

_Though couldn’t say much for my self esteem_

_All I wanted was to do right by you_

_I guess my life had a running theme_

_One that the passing years alone would never mend_

_Eventually the leaves began to fade_

_It must have started when I settled in Arcadia_

_Then upon a day when the world fell into shade_

_The first sign came in the form of an eclipse_

_To protect people I stood there unafraid_

_As the Winter began to descend_

_Seeing you again was like some form of rehash_

_Current or younger we argued just the same_

_Then suddenly my entire world was over in a flash_

_You even said you were **proud** of me_

_Before in my arms you turned to ash_

_And to another plane you would transcend_

_It would all came down to one last spell_

_I fought so hard for us all_

_But it was time for a final farewell_

_Everything moved too fast_

_No one was left to catch me when I fell_

_Only hearts to rend_

_Goodbye_

_It was so hard to say_

_This second chance, a retry_

_I love you both, I hope you know?_

_No matter what that was never a lie_

_Not being here though, it’s hard to comprehend_

_But I’m still here_

_The path ahead is clear_

_I refuse to simply disappear_

_No longer bowing to my own fear_

_Every word is spoken sincere_

_Because my time is now_

**_This life is my own to walk_ **

~*---*~

As the last few words leave his lips he is not ashamed to admit that tears had started falling probably about four verses back and are still coming so he tries to rub the evidence away on a sleeve. Unfortunately all it ends up doing is smearing salt into blue eyeshadow leaving him even more of a mess than he’d started plus an aching chest. It hurts so damn much but it is a _good_ hurt, a reprieve.

“Some grand tribute, huh? Still can’t do much without it all setting me off again.” It is said half sighed while leaning back where he is barely able to make a single star out because of all the lights that blare well into the night unknowingly snatching away another source of comfort. But they’re still there he knows, watching as they have his entire life. Nothing is forever in the world of magic nor in life, not as long as somebody is still there to talk about it.

“Thank you for everything, Master.”


End file.
